We Might Have Roses in December
by Neverland123
Summary: Before "Hook", before children, before marriage, they were just kids looking for adventure. The story of how Peter met Moira and her siblings in 1966 and took them away to Neverland, setting off the events that inspired Spielberg's classic movie adaption
1. Little Darlings

Every Thursday at four o'clock the beginning ballet class let out at the Calloway Creative Center on McFarland Street, the steady stream of little girls trickled out of the studio and into the waiting room where they were picked up by their mothers. Some of the girls went to the loo and changed out of their leotards and into their street clothes when they knew their mothers would be late.

One five-year-old, Angie Woodham, who knew her ride would be late but had forgotten to pack a spare dress, sat in the lobby swinging her legs over the side of the chair as she watched the clock. She saw the last of her classmates being walked out by her mother at ten past four, leaving her alone with the dance teacher Miss Julia. Her teacher never minded that she was there late because she had to prepare for the 4:30 tap class anyway. Miss Julie found Angie to be a peach, her blonde hair always in pigtails and her thoughts always jumbled and occupied. She could sit by herself and didn't need much to entertain herself, often nodding her head and singing silently to herself.

Insistent knocking at the studio window was the only signal Angie needed to know it was time to go. Her sister Moira never walked inside because she didn't like to leave her bike on the sidewalk unattended. Angie hopped off the chair and ran outside, "Bye Miss Julie."

Moira, who was twelve, picked up her sister from dance class every Thursday after she was done with art club at school. Their parents both worked late shifts on Thursday and didn't want Angie to walk home by herself. Moira eyed her sister as she walked outside in her pink leotard and tutu.

"Where are your regular clothes?"

Angie shrugged, "I wore this to class when Mummy dropped me off. I'm wearing my sneakers though."

Moira saw that Angie was in fact wearing her favorite red converse sneakers that Moira had passed down to her when she outgrew them. "Aren't you cold?"

"Oh, I left my jacket inside!" Angie rushed back inside and came out wearing her winter coat, her little stocking-clad legs sticking out from underneath._ Mum must have thought she had her clothes on underneath her coat_, Moira thought. It was the middle of December and tomorrow was the last day of school until Christmas Break began, but it had yet to snow despite the frigid temperatures.

Moira coaxed Angie towards the bike. "Well come on, we have time to meet Jake and get some hot chocolate before we meet Gram."

And like any other Thursday Miss Julie watched from her desk as Moira helped her little sister sit on the handlebars of her bike, minding the tutu away from the front wheel, and carefully pedaling down the street towards their favorite café.

Jacob was the middle Woodham child, who at age nine considered himself the next Paul McCartney and went to guitar lessons every Monday and Thursday at the local music teacher's house. When the lessons ended at three he would ride his bike to the local café, the Porcelain Jug, and either buy a drink or look through the magazines. When it was warmer he and Moira could be seen sitting at the tables outside doing their homework and sipping milkshakes.

Sitting on the bar stool at the very end of the counter, Jacob eyed a group of girls from his school at a booth nearby. He glanced at the café entrance and didn't see Moira's bike appear from up the hill through the window so he decided today was the day he would put his skills to the test.

He pulled his guitar from his case and carefully plucked a few notes to make sure that it was still in tune. He didn't want to play too loudly in case he would be asked to leave by the lone waitress who was on duty.

Jacob's music teacher had him practice the first few bars of the intro to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys and he thought that would be enough to grab the group's attention, especially since he noticed Pretty Mandy was among them.

The first few cords were shaky but they steadily grew as Jacob got near the end of the introduction. That was all he knew but he figured he could sing the rest. The girls had stopped chatting and had turned to look at him. _This is it_, he thought, _my moment to shine_.

He opened his mouth sucked in a big breathe, "Wouldn't—"

"WOULDN'T IT BE NICE IF WE WERE OLDER, THEN WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO WAIT SO LONG!"

Jacob spun and saw his sisters standing in the doorway, Angie belting her heart out with Moira jumping in on the next verse.

"AND WOULDN'T IT BE NICE TO LIVE TOGETHER, IN THE KIND OF WORLD WHERE WE BELONG."

At the site of Jacob's red face, the group of girls began to giggle and Jacob started to put his guitar away. Some of the girls immediately stopped and egged Jacob on to take it back out and keep playing. Jacob didn't take them too seriously until they began shouting requests like 'California Dreamin', 'Secret Agent Man', and even some Christmas carols.

Jacob had reconsidered murdering his sisters when he saw Pretty Mandy was looking at him. He cleared his throat and straightened his back after pulling his guitar strap back over his shoulders.

"Any requests ladies?"

A lean voice startled them. "Yeah, I request you get out before I give you the hiding of your life."

Ms. Beatrice, the café manager, had emerged from her office upstairs after hearing the music and singing. A cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth as she struggled to say, "I don't need you scaring customers away during my busy season. Now bugger off unless you gonna be quiet and buy something."

Jacob was out the door and unlocking his bike before she could finish. He had nearly knocked his sisters clear out the way but he figured that was the least they deserved. Moira was still giggling as she approached him. "Oh come of it, the girls thought you were good. It was _us_ they were laughing at."

Jacob didn't look at her as he huffed, "Can we just leave now?"

Angie's eyes got wide, "But I didn't get any hot chocolate!"

"Well I'm not going back in there after what you two just pulled."

Moira rolled her eyes, "I'll go in and get them." She turned to Jacob. "You got any change?"

He fished some coins out of his school trousers and handed them to her. Angie stayed outside with him and begged him to play his guitar again, saying that they could earn some money for more sweets. He said no because the cold wasn't good for musical instruments, and that if he earned the money he wouldn't waste it on sweets.

"What if I helped you get money?" She asked, not understanding Jacob's under appreciation for candy.

"What could you do to help?" Jacob narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if she thought that holding a collection hat up for donations counted as help.

But she thought no such thing. Angie stuck up her lower lip and attempted to look sophisticated as she tried to do a pirouette she'd learned in dance class. "I could dance while you play music. Do you know Swan Lake?"

Jacob stared. "No."

He didn't stop Angie from clumsily twirling down the sidewalk with her eyes closed, only opening them to make sure she didn't dance into oncoming traffic. She only stopped when she'd almost turned the corner and spotted a vagrant selling something from a cardboard box. Jacob walked towards them and groaned when he saw the box was full of kittens.

They already had a dog, Nana III, back at home. And despite that Nana III had never bitten Angie and she got all the pony (or doggy) rides she could want, she insisted that she should have a pet of her own that she could exhort her own authority over. Both their parents had both said no and had even gotten Gram to side with them. As much as Gram loved Nana III and all her ancestors, she felt that devoting your time to other people was more important.

That was how Uncle Tootles had come to live with them.

Moira came up behind Jake struggling to carry three take-away cups of steaming hot chocolate, Ms. Beatrice bellowing at her not to come back until after New Year 1967. She was about to ask where Angie was when she spotted her manhandling several kittens, comparing them to see which one she would love best. Jacob looked at Moira hopelessly, imploring her to take care of getting Angie quietly away from the stall. Moira huffed and shoved his hot chocolate to him.

She pretended she was on a wild hunt when it came to approaching Angie, as if she were trying to sneak up on an elephant on the verge of rampage. Angie tightened her grip on a helpless kitten as she saw Moira out the corner of her eye. Moira immediately pretended not to be interested in Angie and took a long sip of her hot chocolate, drawing out her satisfied, "Mmmmmmm."

Moira could see Angie was eyeing the other cup in her hand. Perfect. Moira extended her arm with Angie's cup and held it towards her but just out of her reach. Angie tried to reach for it but Moira moved further away. Angie eyed the cup, the kitten, and then the vagrant who was pleading with her to buy the kitten or leave already. Angie sulkily put the kitten down and walked towards Moira, who continued to egg her on and keep the cup out of reach until they got far away from the kittens, the whole time Angie pleading, "Give it here, Moira!"

The siblings walked uphill on Canhan Street with their bikes, chatting about their day at school before Angie brought up her idea with Moira on how to make money with Jacob's guitar. Moira pretended to be very impressed but as soon as Angie was a few steps in front of them Moira glared accusingly at Jacob.

He looked at her worryingly, "What?"

"Have you been telling her about the money troubles?" She hissed.

"What? No, she wanted me to earn money to get more candy for her. She doesn't know anything about what we heard Mum and Dad talking about."

Moira sighed in relief, thankful that Angie at least remained oblivious to the financial qualms that had come up recently. To be fair, their parents didn't even suspect she and Jacob knew anything, having only discovered it accidently when they overheard their parents arguing one night about money.

It had been no secret that when their grandfather died four years ago he had racked up a lot of medical bills, which came out of most of his and Gram's savings. The Woodhams had lived in a tiny apartment back then but Jane visited regularly to help take care of her father and Tootles pitched in whenever he was on leave from the navy. Their uncle Daniel and his wife Adrienne used to help out too, but they had to move France when Adrienne was offered a better job position back in her native Paris, taking their uncle and cousins with her.

It was their uncle Daniel and his family who had lived with Gram to help her with bills before Adrienne was offered her job. Their cousins, Michelle and Basile, were three and six months old respectively. Daniel had trouble finding a job in France so he brought Basile and Michelle home for a long visit after Basile was born and so Adrienne didn't have to take off work, becoming the first stay-at-home dad they'd ever seen. Sure they'd seen dad's who were out of work and had their wives work when they could, but they hardly did any of the housework or shopping, so minding the children was out of the question.

But Daniel did all those things in Adrienne's absence, though he needed help in the beginning which is where their mother Jane and Gram came in handy. Gram didn't mind, that was around the last time she had the whole family back together since Daniel moved two years before that, which was around the time the Woodham's moved in.

Insight into their money troubles came when Moira and Jacob were fighting over the bathroom a week earlier and thought they heard a soft cry come from their parent's bedroom. The door was open a crack, enough to see their mother slumped across the bed curled up and sniffling into a pillow. Their father, Jack, was sitting up next to her and rubbing her shoulder whispering, "It's alright sweets. We'll be okay, you'll see. I'll get us through this."

Jane wiped her eyes as Jack brushed her short cropped hair away from her forehead. She sat up and Jack took her into his arms as she buried her face in his chest. "How will you fix this Jack? We're barely paying back the second mortgage and we didn't see half these bills coming our way."

Jack shushed her. "No we didn't, but I'll talk to my boss and pick up some extra shifts at the dock, and with you working as long as you can we can stay afloat."

"Barely," Jane scoffed.

"Hey," Jack smoothed. "I know we didn't plan on this but you know what they say: things will always get worse before they get better. You of all people have proven to me that anything's possible."

"How?" Jane asked.

"Well I got you to marry me didn't I?" When that secret crack of a smile creased on Jane's face, Jack let out a small laugh and rubbed her shoulder. "There she is, I was wondering where that spunky girl I fell in love with was hiding. Where has she been?"

Jane let out a long sigh and looked at her husband of 15 years, "I think she grew up Jack."

"Well grow back down," he paused. "I know you've done it before."

Jane stopped breathing, taking in her husband's words and trying to shift through exactly what he meant before she responded. When looking back on this night years from now, Jacob and Moira realized their father knew of a flying boy named Peter Pan who was the object of stories their mother told them, and was under the notion his existence may have been more than just the subject of the Darling's imagination.

Jack seemed to know what had upset his wife. "I'm sorry sweets. It's getting to be around that time of year isn't it? I shouldn't have brought it up."

Jake looked up at Moira and mouthed _'brought what up?'_ Moira shrugged and shook her head.

Their parents just held each other for a few more minutes before Jacob and Moira decided to go back to their rooms, on their way making a vow never to tell Angie about their newly discovered money woes.

When they got to the top of the hill the children mounted their bikes. Grabbing Angie under her arms Moira lifted her up and made sure she was safely sitting on the handlebars with her feet in the basket and leaning back against Moira. This was their favorite part of taking this way home when they made it to the quarter mile downhill stretch once they hit the hardware store. Sometimes Jacob and Moira would bet the other would be chicken and hit breaks first but Angie would always hold her arms out and pretend she was flying. After getting to the bottom Angie would say, "I flew faster than Mummy." Referring, as always, to her favorite story.

As far back as Moira could remember she heard the stories of The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up, who whisked her grandmother and mother away to Never Land with their siblings in tow to play all day in the sun and live endless adventures. Back when Moira had a crib she would think she saw him in the corner of the window. When Jacob and she shared a bed they would stay up to wait for him and fall asleep telling each other what they would do when they got to Never Land and wake up the next morning thinking it really happened. By the time Angie came along Peter Pan had become as common as Father Christmas.

It wasn't long before they rode up to their home of two years, Number 14, parking their bikes on the side of the house near the garden and going in through the back door. Moira called out for Tootles but they got no answer.

"He's left a note," Jacob picked it up from the counter and read it aloud. "'Gone to pick up Wendy, dinner will be made when we get back. Tootles'"

Gram had few passions in her life: family, gardening, and charity work. The Great Ormond Street Hospital had known Gram since she was a teenager when she volunteered to read to sick children and when she was a volunteer nurse during WWII. These days she helped lobby for better treatment of abandoned and orphaned children going as far as picking them up off the streets and getting them checked out by doctors. Gram was often up writing letters to adoptions agencies and putting ads in newspapers to find parents or homes that would take them in.

On the fridge where her grandchildren put up drawings and good grades, there were also drawings and letters sent by grateful children thanking Gram for finding them homes. It was a normal sight for the family to come down for Sunday breakfast and see a youth sitting at the table for their first real meal in years.

It was that way of thinking that brought Uncle Tootles to them. Though it wasn't Gram who brought him home, it was their mother.

At age 13 and one year after the war ended, Jane came home from school with a 5-year-old boy in tow that she claimed to have found rummaging around one of the demolished homes destroyed during the Blitz. The boy wouldn't speak but Jane said that his name was Tootles, though a birth certificate later dubbed him 'Thomas' for political reasons. He was Gram's first orphan, teaching him to speak and then to read, eventually finding a family nearby to take him in. Tootles was the only one who addressed Gram by her given name, Wendy.

He lived with them now in one of the converted offices since getting out of the navy a year ago. He was still in touch with the couple, now divorced, that took him in as a child but he had always felt at home with Gram and the family.

The children ran to the lounge with the TV and started watching their new favorite show 'The Monkees'. Jacob's favorite member was Micky Dolenz, while Moira's was Davy Jones. Jacob chided her by saying she only liked him because he was cute. "And come on," he added, "He doesn't even play an instrument."

"He plays maracas and is the only English bloke in the band. I'm just being patriotic." Moira crossed her arms and sat back deep in the couch.

Angie peeped up from behind the couch, "Is that why you kiss his picture sometimes before we go to sleep?"

Jacob turned up the volume while Moira pummeled Angie with a pillow until she landed on the floor. They heard thumping coming down the steps and their St. Bernard, Nana III, came bounding towards them. She walked along the couch and received her pets and greetings from her charges before settling down on the floor in front of the TV.

Angie popped back from behind the couch and ran towards Nana III. She stopped just behind the dog and lunged at her, landing on top of her and giggling in her lowest sinister voice. Nana III didn't even flinch and let the small child remain on top of her, murmuring to herself and fisting the dog's fur.

An hour later the TV had become little more than white noise. After having changed out of their school clothes the children had drifted into their own worlds for the time being. Jacob was doing math homework on the floor where Nana III had previously occupied before she wandered off with Angie along for the ride. Moira was sitting upside down on the couch and reading a magazine.

That was how Gram and Tootles found them when they arrived back from none other than the Great Ormond Street Hospital. Tootles carried a bag of groceries with him, proclaiming that he was to make his infamous shepherd's pie for dinner. Jacob and Moira stopped what they were doing to look hopelessly at Gram, imploring her to talk him out of cooking again.

"Didn't Mum say she wanted to cook when she gets back?" Moira asked desperately.

Tootles, who took no notice of his honorary niece's despair, emerged from the kitchen wearing their mother's apron. "Nope, she won't be off work until seven but she'll be home just in time for dinner. I'm so excited to try this new recipe I found; you'll love it so much you'll just burst."

He disappeared into the kitchen again. Gram merely shrugged after Jake raised his eyebrows at her. "What?" She asked hopelessly. "You want to be the one to break his heart and tell him his cooking stinks? Be my guest."

Angie appeared from wherever she was hiding with her stuffed rabbit in tow. "Grammy!" She ran towards Gram. "Muffy got a cut on her arm. Can you fix her for me?"

Muffy was Angie's pride and joy, the one 'pet' she had that her parents couldn't make her throw out. It was falling apart almost every week the way she dragged it everywhere since she was a baby. This week stuffing was falling from a rip at Muffy's elbow. The family had lost count how many times Jane had re-stuffed the rabbit.

Gram inspected the extent of Muffy's injuries. "She'll need some minor surgery. Nothing serious, just some stitches." Gram loved playing these games with Angie whenever a toy got broken or ripped. "Fetch my sewing bag upstairs Angie; we shall operate immediately."

"May I have her back a moment?" Angie asked.

"Of course dear." Gram handed Muffy back and Angie walked over to the couch, rabbit in tow.

She stopped in front of Moira, staring up at her with her hands clasped behind her back. Moira glanced at her, waiting for her to speak, sing, anything but she just stood there and looked at her older sister. Angie was in no way unintelligent despite what her age suggested and if anyone knew that it was Moira. Little Angie was up to something.

Looking suspiciously at her sister, Moira slowly lowered her magazine

"Angie, what are you—"

_WACK_

Angie had pulled a fast one. Muffy had become a makeshift weapon for that moment and was used to beat Moira over the head as payback for her pillow assault earlier. It only took one hit to stun Moira and for Angie to run for dear life. Moira shot off the couch after her only to be blocked by Gram, whom Angie was hiding behind.

"Girls, this is no way to solve your problems!" Gram was stuck between the two girls, one trying to grab at the other and yelling childish insults. Gram finally got a few feet between the two of them and tried to get them to calm down.

"She hit me!

"She hit me first earlier!"

"She embarrassed me!"

"Why do YOU kiss pictures of boys? Aaaahhh, she's going to hit me again!" Angie ducked back behind Gram when Moira lurched forward. Gram grabbed Moira's shoulders to keep her in place.

"Margaret Jane Alice Woodham. Do not hit your sister again!"

Moira froze at her given full name. She was hardly called that unless she was being scolded, having to go by her nickname after they found there were several 'Margaret's in Moira's playgroup as a toddler. They ended up christening a Margaret, a Maizy, a Maggie, and a Moira to avoid confusion when the children were called in by their mothers. Jane decided on Moira since it was Gram's second name and it stuck with her after that. Angie was named after one of Gram's middle names, Angela, as well.

Gram turned to her second namesake. "And Angie, it is rude to embarrass your sister on crushes she has on celebrities."

Angie tilted her head in confusion. "I thought she said she was being patriotic."

Gram stood up straight and made the girls look at one another in the eye and demanded they apologize. She was immediately belted with whining of, "She started it," and, "what did I do?"

"Enough, the both of you." The girls got quiet again. "If you cannot find a way to work this out you can go upstairs right now and go without supper."

Angie got excited, "You mean it!"

Gram was about ready to give up, but she could be as stubborn as her granddaughters. "Apologize. Right. Now." Her stern tone left no more room for argument or persuasion.

It would be delightful to say that the girls owned up their responsibilities and acted mature enough to admit they both were wrong and that Gram taught them a valuable lesson on sisterhood and what it meant to always be there for one another. But Gram never got her apology and the girls didn't remain enemies for much longer, for at that moment Jacob had decided to explode onto the scene with the biggest pillow from the couch.

"PILLOW FIGHT!"

It is a little known fact that all qualms between sisters are instantly forgotten when a male becomes a threat to one or both of them. For when Jacob came rushing at his sisters nothing else mattered except for escape. The girls hightailed it, shrieking and hand-in-hand, from their brother and into the kitchen, leaving a very shocked and bewildered Gram in the hallway.

Poor Tootles, who was peeling potatoes while reading out loud how much ground meat he'd need from the cookbook on the counter, suddenly had three children piling on the floor hitting at each other with faux violence and whatever soft objects they could find. This terrified him slightly, hating having to break up conflicts no matter how innocent, and tried to get them out of the kitchen.

"Come now, suppers' never going to be ready at this rate." He couldn't understand why that didn't get them to stop. In fact, it only seemed to ramp up their volume and aggression. Gram walked in to see a flustered Tootles who was in the midst of manually trying to separate and remove them. He held Moira under one arm like a package, while she was in a tug-of-war over the pillow with Jacob. In the other arm he dangled Angie by one leg and she proceeded to laughingly pelt at Tootles with Muffy.

Tootles struggled out of the kitchen and back into the TV lounge with the girls in his arms. Jacob, having refused to let go of the pillow, was dragged across the floor the entire way. He deposited all three of them on the couch, landing with an 'oomph', and pointed at them in a regrettably non-threatening manner. "No violence in my kitchen!"

He could still here the children laughing as he limped back into the kitchen.


	2. Breaking In and Down

**CHAPTER TWO: BREAKING IN AND DOWN **

"Alright class. I hope you have a nice holiday and I'll see you next year," said Mrs. Turner as she let out her class for the Christmas holidays. Most of the students had already made it out the door before she quickly shouted, "And don't forget that your essay on how you spent your break is due the day you get back."

The door had slammed shut and Mrs. Turner was left in a ghost town of a classroom, a few sheets of paper landing on the ground as a sick allegory of tumbleweeds across a desert plain. She sighed and sat down to straighten her line of pencils.

Outside the school had become a smorgasbord of adolescents breaking off into their peer groups and lounging around before heading home. This was the difference between the secondary and primary schools, the younger ones couldn't wait to leave while the teenagers took their time before venturing into the outside world. The school grounds, some children believed, belonged to them and they could become different people once they came there in the morning and returned to being what society considered them when they went home.

It's that type of thinking that made Stewart Ward braver when he was around friends and less adults to tell him what he should do or how to act, just like his father always did. He was chatting up some of his mates when his eyes caught sight of a several girls nearby sitting on or around the bench on the left side of the school.

The girls looked like they were in Year Seven, a couple years younger than himself. Only a girl as young as that in this school would be in the position that grabbed his attention. She was lying on the grass, her feet up in the air and resting on the bench next to her friend who leaned down to pass her a bottle of Coke they were sharing. He could have seen up her skirt perfectly if she hadn't thought ahead and used her knapsack to block any view of it.

'_She knows that boys look at her.'_ Stewart smirked and locked eyes with his friend Mark and nodded in the direction of the girls.

Mark glanced back at Stewart, "You want the blonde or brunette?"

"The one on the ground."

Mark leaned in to look her over and shrugged, "Her again? Alright mate, but you know how this story ends right?"

Stewart raised an eyebrow, "First time for everything."

Leaning back against the brick wall of the school building, Mark watched as Stewart made his way over to the girl who seemed just as eager to shoot him down as Stewart was to make her like him. Stewart may not have been the cutest boy at school but for a 14-year-old he was popular even among the oldest years. An accomplished cricket and football player he was never without friends or admirers. That's why Mark couldn't understand why Stewart had such a fascination for the Woodham girl, who hung out more with the free spirited crowd than mainstream kids. He had to admit it was fun watching her tell Stewart off without having to shout at him. She seemed to enjoy mouthing off and teasing as much he did, but she would always get tired of him and ditch the scene.

Moira didn't even notice Stewart was standing over her until his shadow loomed over face on the grass. She groaned upon recognizing the profile of his crew cut hair and the square shape of his shoulders. Closing her eyes she said, "You're blocking the sun, I'm trying to get a tan here."

"It's December." Stewart pointed out.

"Glad to know you can read calendars."

"My mate and I were about to go get a bite; you and your friend care to join us?"

Meeting the eyes of her friend Donna, the girls silently contemplated joining the boys. Moira didn't hate Stewart or purposely ever tell him to get lost; she could think of worse ways to spend the afternoon. There was just one problem.

"We haven't any money," Moira said. Donna nodded, "Yeah, I'm spent."

"We have money!" Stewart blurted before Donna had even finished.

Moira stared at Stewart from the grass, amazed at how far he was willing to go just to be with her. Inviting Donna was one thing but to pay for the both of them screamed desperation. _Not necessarily a bad thing_, she thought if he was willing to be nice to her for once.

Moira would never know what could have happened on her first date, because suddenly a voice cut across the near-empty school front. Moira looked up to see Jacob at the gate, panting as if he had just run like his life depended on it. He looked at her frantically before he screamed, "I think someone broke into the house. I need you to come home!"

Donna saw Moira pause for only a split second before she was up off the ground and running toward her brother in a panic Donna had never seen before. The last time Moira could remember being this scared was a year ago when they had to rush Angie to the hospital in the middle of the night, her stomach in so much pain she thought she would die. It turned out she had appendicitis and had surgery that night to remove the offending organ. After waking up from the surgery all Angie was upset about was that she couldn't see her appendix to say goodbye.

Reaching Jacob, he grabbed her hand and started running down the streets. Moira had forgone her bike to walk with Donna today and had wished that her friend's birthday had been that morning so her parents would finally buy her a new bike.

"How do you know—excuse me," Moira ducked under a woman carrying groceries, "How do you know the house was broken into?"

It had not even occurred to her until now that Jacob may have been mistaken about the entire thing. He would not live to see his next birthday if he was jerking her around.

"When I first walked inside I saw some of the furniture turned over and there was broken glass on the ground. No one was home." Jacob looked genuinely scared, like he didn't know what to do with himself. His eyes twitched and he kept his shoulders hunched and his arms out even when he slowed down. They came around the corner of their street and saw a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk.

And in front of their doorstep.

A small cluster of their neighbors had taken it upon themselves to gather and watch as a patrolman tried to assure them that everything was alright. "There is nothing to see here ladies and gentlemen. If you will all step back and please go back to your homes, we can clear this up quickly."

"Officer!" Jacob yelled.

The officer motioned him away, "Little boy if you'll please go home I'm afraid—"

"That's our house. I'm the one that called you." The officer tipped up his hat with his nightstick and looked at Jacob skeptically. Moira cried, "He's not lying, look at the pictures on the mantel. This is our house."

The officer told them to follow him into the house, keeping a hand on each of their shoulders. He led them into the hallway by the front door. From there the children could see that the living room couch had been tipped over and the floor was covered in glass from a vase that had smashed on the hardwood. A framed picture had also come off the wall leading up the stairs and had landed at the bottom with glass littering most of the steps. Two officers were walking around the house, lifting up their possessions and analyzing the scene.

"Dermot, are these kids the ones in the pictures?" The officer who escorted them yelled.

Officer Dermot glanced up at the school photos on the mantel above the fireplace and look back at the kids, nodding.

"Alright then young man, if you were the one who called then why weren't you here when we arrived?" The officer, who's name badge revealed the Anderson.

"I was using the phone to call you when I thought I heard something upstairs," Jacob began explaining. "I thought the robbers were still in the house so I just ran out. My sister's school is only a few blocks away so I went there to make sure I stopped her from coming in the house."

Moira listened to Jacob go on about how he's found the door open, and that they were home alone until their mom came home with Angie (which should be any moment now) and that there dad was working the late shift and they never had a clue where Tootles or Gram was before adding, "But that's not important because she's always missing before tea time and she won't let Tootles touch her tea after he almost poisoned us with his homemade lemonade—"

Jacob had this bad habit of rambling on about the most inappropriate things when he was nervous or scared, and it usually happened when he got bad marks in school. The officer grilled Jacob about all the specifics concerning the timeline of events from when he got out of school, to when he got home and how long he stayed in the house before calling the police. Moira could hear Nana III barking from her doghouse in the backyard, begging to be let back in the house, and she wondered if any of the neighbors had heard her barking while their house was being vandalized and turned their heads at the thought of inquiring if anything was wrong. He breathing had finally come to slow, her adrenaline started dying down, but the situation hit her harder than ever. Someone had broken into their house!

She didn't even want to think about what could have been taken, or what the rest of the house looked like. In her haste to run home her long brown hair had come out of her pony tail, small trails of it escaping and covering her flushed face.

Getting annoyed with Nana III's insistent barking, Officer Dermot reached his limit when he had to shout over the barks after having to ask again what time Moira usually came home from school that he turned to her and yelled, "Would you quiet that mutt up, please!"

"What happened!" Came a voice at the doorway.

Everyone, officers and children, froze in their spots when they heard Jane Woodham arrive home with her youngest in tow. Jane looked at the state of her house, the house she grew up in, and got this look on her face like she was about to be sick. Her eyes landed on Jacob and Moira, who didn't know whether to be afraid or flee into her arms.

Officer Dermot approached her. "It appears like someone broke into the house ma'am, but they've left the telly and none of the drawers seem to have been disturbed. Is there a place where you keep your valuables that we should be looking?"

Jane took a moment to address the officer, still stunned at the scene before her.

"Um, yes. Please follow me upstairs and I'll show you."

Angie stayed downstairs while Jane went upstairs to see if any of the obvious valuables had been taken or her jewelry box ransacked. The little girl looked up at her siblings after observing the mess before her, "We got robbed?"

"Looks like it," Moira said gruffly.

"Did they take any of my stuff?"

Moira sighed, "Nobody wants to take your shell collection, Angie."

"But it's my treasure. I thought pirates were always looking for buried treasure." Officer Dermot could be heard walking down the stairs, followed by their mothers clicking heels. Jane was assuring the officer that she noticed nothing was gone, "I don't understand, they didn't take anything valuable. It looks like someone wandered in here drunk and knocked everything over."

Officer Anderson piped up, "Couldn't have said it better myself. At the worst it's probably some kids from the neighborhood with a sick idea of a joke. You should actually consider yourself lucky. You lock your doors, miss?"

Jane shrugged, "Sometimes."

"Well I'd start doing it every time you leave house. Get the little ones here a spare to keep on them to get in. These days we can't be too careful."

And with that the officers left, giving Jane a card for a maid service that would come clean the home cheaply if they so needed it, and congratulated Jane on having a boy that was smart enough to call police and run to make sure his sister was safe.

Jane closed the door behind them, the first time the door had been closed since Jacob had called the cops. She stared ahead, but not at the door. Jane was looking at nothing, into a space only she could see to try and make sense out of what had happened here today. Her forehead came into contact with the door and she finally closed her eyes.

Biting her bottom lip to keep from crying, Jane tried to keep her shoulders from hunching and her face from screwing up. For a moment she stopped breathing because she knew if she exhaled that her children would hear her breathe quivering. She would not cry in front of her children. British mothers never cried.

She didn't feel the small hands clutch at her skirt at first, nor the ones at her arms or the one that felt for her cheek. She leant into the touch of her eldest, her first baby, and wished so much that she would stay this age forever. Jane had so much wanted to grow up, and though she learned to enjoy being a child on the eve her father returned from the war she still urged to do grown-up things.

But all she wanted to do now was be twelve again and leave all her worries to her mother. She didn't want to be an edge anymore with the break-in, the bills, and the new—

"Mum?"

Moira rubbed her mother's shoulder lightly, but it was enough to snap her out of the full daytrip she'd taken after the police had left. "Are you okay?"

Jane nodded, first to herself and then looked into the eyes of her children, the faces that belonged to her and her husband. She didn't want them to live like she did, always somewhat on the edge because of her youthful experiences with a certain pirate so many years ago. There were days when Jane wondered if it all really happened, that her mother hadn't just implanted this idea in her head and it sprouted full bloom one night after that horrible fight they'd had. The same way her mother and uncles brought Peter and Hook to life the night her grandfather threatened to make Wendy leave the nursery. It could have so easily been made up but this small part of Jane's mind kept doing a double take, always checking for a lost shadow or listening for the tinkling of bells.

He children were hugging her now and she took all three of them in her arms. Jane forgot all her worries then and there.

Her children giggled as she laughed at what the sight of them must look like: a huddled form of pathetic motherhood among a mess of trashed items. She said, "What a day this has been, eh?"

When the children nodded she smiled and looked at all three of them in the eye one more time. "Do you know how I know how lucky I am to have you?"

"How, Mummy?" Angie asked.

She wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and slowly turned them to face the interior of the house.

"Because."

A kiss for Moira.

"As a family."

A kiss for Jacob.

"We will all pull together."

A kiss for Angie.

"And clean this entire house."

Jane smiled through the roaring groans of her children and led them into the kitchen where the dust pans and trash bins awaited them. While they got started she went to telephone her husband's work at the docks. The manager there had a crush on her in secondary school and always put her calls through to Jack. She told him very carefully what had happened, specifying every few minutes that nobody was home when it happened and nothing had been taken. He said he would leave home at once but she timidly reminded him that loosing half a day's wages was not worth the trouble and that they'd see him at dinner time.

For most of the afternoon they gingerly picked up broken glass and dealt with the array of neighbors who called on them and asked if everything was okay. The doorbell rang so often that they took turns answering and had the same responses for all of them: How nice to see you. No we're fine. Just crazy kids. Nothing important broken or taken. Why thank you for the dish, I'm sure we'll enjoy it.

There was soon a small pile of plates and bowls filled with casserole, pies and sandwiches left at the foot of the stairs. The routine of answering the door was broken when it came down to Angie's turn and a high-pitched scream brought everyone running to the door. Tootles stood at the door with a bloody apron, just coming home from his new job at the butchers, and Angie thought that a murderer had come back to finish them off.

Tootles hated it when kids were genuinely afraid of him. Sure he had played being a scary monster in hide and seek games but the children could hardly stop giggling enough to scream in terror. Now he had Angie refusing to even look at him until he had taken the apron off and thrown it out of site. She looked somewhat more relieved at Tootles holding his hands up in surrender but still didn't stop shaking until Gram came home and could hold her while Jane made dinner.

Moira sat next to Tootles on the couch as he solemnly watched Angie being cradled by Gram. Tootles looked absolutely horrified that he had scared her that much. "She wasn't afraid of _**you**_, Tootles," Moira said. "She saw the blood and just panicked. With the break-in I guess she just thought the worst."

Tootles nodded but his eyes remained fixed on Angie and Gram. Angie had begun sucking her thumb, something her parents had only weaned her out of the year before. Moira perked up when she heard Tootles mumble something. "What was that?"

"I just hate seeing kids scared like this." Tootles sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess it reminds me too much of when I was younger and surrounded by all the broken buildings during the war."

He moved his hand and the leant his face forward. "It's like looking in a mirror sometimes," he gestured to Angie and Gram. "It feels just like yesterday I was being held like that way by Wendy, when I was Angie's age."

"Back when Mum brought you home?"

"Yeah." Tootles cracked his neck to the side to get rid of the strain from constantly looking down to slice meat at the butcher shop. "Though sometimes I see pictures of Wendy when she was your age and I swear I've seen that face looking down on me and holding me like that." He took Moira around the shoulders and hugged her close and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Course with all the beautiful girls in this family it's hard to keep track of all of them."

Moira laughed and tweaked Tootle's nose, something she'd done since she was small, and he responded by blowing raspberries into her cheek as she struggled and laughed to get away. He let her go and told her to check on how Jacob was doing.

In truth he needed a moment to gather his thoughts together. As he watched her go he couldn't help but contemplate how lately his thoughts had become jumbled together, his dreams combining with reality so that he would start daydreaming at work and almost slice his fingers off. Just today he became so badly shaken when his boss picked up one of the fish hooks and was using it to wield around one of the pig carcasses in the freezer.

Tootles froze while carrying eight pounds of briskets as he saw Mr. Osmond slam the hook into the carcass and carry it with his bulging arms as if it were nothing. The way the hook so easily slid into the flesh and ripped it part of the way sent a shiver up Tootles' spine. He closed his eyes for a moment but saw a flash of red, not the color of blood but it covered a man like a coat, and he saw shining eyes that lit up when he laughed as the hook came down—

He had to open his eyes because of the jolt of fright that shot through him and Mr. Osmond yelling at him to stop looking stupid and get back to work. "Yes, sir!" Came his Navy riddled response.

He was no stranger to these sorts of dreams, he'd been having them on and off since he was a boy. He and Jane had worked out that they came from Wendy's Peter Pan stories when they involved Captain Hook. He was the boogeyman for Darling children when the lights went out. Tootles used to beg his adopted parents to keep the lights on after Jane had frightened him by saying Hook had stolen her away in the middle of the night.

"_Why would he do that?" His voice was soft after only just learning how to use it._

"_He wanted to use me as bait for Peter Pan. But the silly old codfish couldn't even do that right because Peter swooped down and saved me from the giant octopus—"_

"_Giant octopus? I thought a crocodile followed Hook around?"_

_Jane rolled her eyes and blew her short hair out of her eyes. "Yes, but remember Hook led the crocodile out to sea before coming back to Never Land. He'd thrown it off the trail but now the octopus got a taste and does the same thing."_

_Tootles looked at her quizzically. "How could I remember the octopus? I haven't heard this story yet."_

_Jane answered quickly, "Because you were there with me when the octopus chased the pirates in their longboat."_

_Jane's brother Danny piped up next to him. "I remember when we went on that hike through the plains and I almost bagged a lion. Do you remember Tootles?"_

_He struggled to, but faintly he could recall running from a giant cat and the skinned elbows from stalking an animal in the dirt. And the laughter of a gaggle of boys that started in the morning and didn't end when the sun went down. This was enough for him and he found himself nodding, "Uh-huh, I remember."_

"_Good, because I'm tired of talking about Hook." Jane snapped before turning to Danny. "How in the world did you bag a lion?"_

Nana III started barking as the master of the house, Jack, walked in and saw that while most of the mess had been cleaned up there was still some fixing to do with his family. His youngest took her thumb out of her mouth and whined for him and he happily gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back and asking how she was doing. "Should we go see how Mummy's doing? I think we should."

Jack carried his youngest into the kitchen to see his wife's back turned to him furiously chopping away at what appeared to be a carrot before sliding all the slices into a boiling pot. Jack knew that his wife made stew when she was a) tired b) annoyed c) had pent up anger or d) all of the above. She had circles under her eyes this morning after tossing and turning most of the night, which with the added stress of the vandalism didn't ease her mood any. He heard her grunting and talking to herself as she viciously chopped poor defenseless potatoes with a little too much force and chucked them into the broth so hard that some escaped and splattered over the stove.

"Hey, luv," He said softly to get her attention. His wife hid it well but he still saw her jump before turning her head to face him. She smiled briefly before turning back saying that dinner would be ready soon, "I know it's wasteful to make so much soup when all that food was dropped off but I can still cook for my family if I want. But you eat all of it tonight because the neighbors are filling your lunch pail the rest of the week and you know how Mrs. Ambrose goes overboard on her green bean casserole."

Jane was talking about nothing at this point, and Jack knew that she was just trying to put on a brave face for him. He knew for a fact that she hated when anyone felt sorry for her because she thought that mirrored her being weak. The war years were not very good to her, he should know since he'd attended school with her through most of them.

He remembered how gorgeous she looked from the moment he'd laid eyes on her when he sat next to her in class when they were in Year Five. His father used to give him five pence to give to the church on Sunday but he would pocket it and conveniently run into Jane and offer to buy her something. If he saw her at the market he would buy her a sweet, next to a street merchant she got a trinket. He followed her around like an annoying puppy but she never once told him to go away.

Being the youngest of three boys Jack always had to fight or be a complete pain to get anything he wanted. If Jane ever told him to go away he was sure he'd be respectful and bow out of her life as she wished. At least until she forgot why she found him annoying and then he would be three steps behind her again. He remembered how out of place she looked whenever he offered to do something nice for her.

Smiling fondly, he often guessed that was why he fell for her so early in life. She wasn't spoilt or delicate, but springy in her step and tough with her fists. He didn't have to walk on eggshells or feel like he had to hold back about most topics. But the one thing that convinced him he had to marry her was that she laughed at his jokes; and sometimes at him, but not in the mean way. She was also the first girl to ever say he was cute.

Shifting his daughter into one arm he walked slowly towards Jane. She didn't turn around but could feel the heat of his body and then the touch of his fingers as he tenderly stroked her neck. The fingers danced their way onto her left shoulder and across her upper back as the rest of Jack's arm wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and lent her head to the right, seeking out the crook of his shoulder and nuzzling into it. Jack kissed the top of her head causing her face to harden while her emotions headed in the opposite direction. Tears threatened to escape through her shut eyes as everything from day came crashing at her like tidal waves and she found herself curling into him.

"Are you alright, Mummy?" Peeped Angie.

_I've forgotten my youngest child was here_, Jane thought, _I really am a horrible mother_. She opened her eyes to see Angie's face leaning against Jack's shoulders, staring at her mother with innocent concern that Jane wished she could steal. Jane didn't have to pretend to be happy at that moment as Jack handed Angie over, saying, "I think Mummy needs a squidge." That was their special word for hugs, something Jane had heard growing up whenever she was sad and her mother sat next to her or took her into arms whispering, "Give us a squidge, lovie."

Jack had never heard that term before and had inquired of Wendy what it meant when he was a teenager. "A boy we knew growing up used to say that," Wendy explained. "He taught my baby brother Michael that word and suddenly that's all he would say for wanting hugs. It just grew into habit after a while."

Mother and child were enveloped in a game of who could squeeze each other the hardest, and giggling and pretending to be out of breathe each time they tightened their hold. Jack started backing out of the doorway when Jane asked Angie if she wanted to help stir the pot.

Jack smiled, "I think Mummy's going to be just fine."

Moira had checked all the usual spots she would normally find Jacob. But when he wasn't downstairs or in his room she started checking closets, under beds, and even crept passed her mother and sister to check under the sink. It only occurred to look outside when she passed the backdoor and saw Nana III pawing at it. She discreetly grabbed her coat and attached Nana III's leash to her collar before yelling out that she was taking her for a walk.

The first pinches of snow she had seen all winter began falling after the sun went down and their small backyard, which looked beautiful in the summer, resembled a powdered muffin top. Nana III veered to the left heading toward the fence that separated their yard from the alley, the latch on the door open indicating that Jake had left the gate open so he could get back in.

Nana III pulled Moira through the gate to reveal Jacob tossing a bouncy ball against the wall of their house. "You know disappearing without telling us isn't going to ease Mum's nerves about today. What are you doing out here?" She asked.

He caught the ball and fiddled with it a moment, looking down. He finally replied, "Nothing."

Nana III scurried up to Jacob and received a pet from him. Moira raised her eyebrows and pulled the collar of her coat up to keep her neck warm. "You know, when I feel like doing nothing I like to do it in my room." She added. "Where it's warm."

"I'm busy. Go away." Jacob threw the ball so high up that Moira was sure it would disappear onto the roof and be lost. But it came back down and Jake let it hit the ground and bounce a few more time before snatching it up again.

Moira narrowed her eyes. "Yes, you look incredibly deep in thought."

It looked like that would be all that Jacob would say on the matter, or anything at all. Nana III began pawing at Moira to go back inside because she was cold. She had turned around to start back inside, not caring if Jacob froze out here if he was too stupid to go back inside the house, when something struck her right shoulder. The bouncy ball hit the floor and was immediately attacked by Nana III, while Moira slowly turned around to face her brother.

"What was that—"

"Do you even care?" Jacob asked icily.

"You talking about what happened today?"

"What happened?" Looking at her like she was crazy he started marching up to her. "How can you be so calm about someone breaking into our house? What if they weren't kids who did it, what if were a crazy man who wanted to hurt us?"

He was nose to nose with her, stepping on his tip toes in order to make his point. Jacob always tried to act tougher than he looked so Moira almost laughed when he put his hands on is hips for assurance. "They were still in the house when I came home."

Any funny thoughts she had immediately deflated her. She had forgotten about that, the whole reason Jacob said which caused him to run after phoning the police, all to make sure she didn't come home. She was only now beginning to feel moved by this, realizing that her kid brother was now the one who felt it had to be him to protect her.

It was Moira who had unwillingly taken on the role of looking after him ever since they were little. After all, wasn't it her he ran to at age four when Blake McCourt pushed him off his tricycle? Hadn't she been sent to bed without supper that very night when Blake's mother called to say she'd witnessed her son being dragged to the ground and had his head sat on by Moira, then seven?

She could see his Adam's apple struggling its way up and down to his tucked in chin. "Before I got out of the house I'd gone and rung the police. Just as I was putting the phone down I heard something upstairs."

Moira remembered him telling Officer Dermot that, followed by him running out the house to find her. He knew she was right there when he was relaying the story so why was he telling her this all over again? _Unless he went up—Oh No!_

Her face softened as Jacob stepped backward, making his way over to the brick wall of their house and leaning his head back. He opened his eyes but kept them towards the sky, "It didn't sound like footprints at first and with Nana III outside barking I thought that whoever was here might have left. I don't why I went up there, but when I did I just knew I wasn't alone."

While Moira listened to Jake she could see him struggle to keep his head up, like he was afraid to admit he'd been scared. "But the front door was locked and I knew they wouldn't have gotten past Nana III, so I was curious to how they got in. I only made it to the top of the stairs when I heard voices coming from your bedroom."

Moira blanched. "W-what?

She remembered checking her room earlier to see if anything had been damaged or stolen. Sharing the room with Angie, their beds on opposite sides to allow more floor space, there didn't appear to be anything out of place as she took a quick look. Some toys and books were strewn about the floor but there was hardly a time they weren't. Had something been moved? Did the intruder kick a book a few feet across the floor or leave an imprint if they sat on one of their beds?

Sucking in the bit of nausea that washed over her, she suddenly saw why Jacob had been acting this way all night. "But why are you schlepping around out here? Tootles said to come find you because I think dinner's almost ready."

A cannonball looked like it would have a tough time moving Jacob from the wall, "I just wanted to see how they got in, but I can't figure it out."

Moira raised an eyebrow. "They came in through the front door, didn't they?"

Shaking his head, Jacob mumbled, "No, the front door was locked." He paused before looking back up, "Moira, do you guys normally leave your window open?"

"Well, no. Not usually in the winter—wait! What do you mean the front door was locked?"

"But you do leave the window unlocked, right?" Jacob's voice had risen higher with an optimism that seemed misplaced considering the situation.

Moira huffed. "Why would I lock the third floor window?" Moira shivered, wondered if Jacob had at all noticed the dropping temperature. All she wanted to do was go back inside, the thought of the hot soup waiting for them made her stomach grumble. She was beginning to get tired of this.

"Because," Jacob lowered his eyelids in a way that gave him the debonair of a suave Sherlock Holmes, "That's the only way the intruders could have gotten into the house."

The sarcasm was not lost on Jacob but he chose to ignore it. "All the doors were locked when I came home. No way in or out unless they had a key and all the other windows were locked."

Moira gaped at her brother and struggled to find a retort. In a strange way what Jacob said made sense if the doors had been locked. Why he didn't mention this before flawed her and she had been too busy cleaning and checking to make sure nothing had been taken. She shouldn't have been surprised that Jacob noticed these things, him always being the one to notice the tiny details in order to solve a problem. He had always been a serious kid, but Moira had all but danced with joy when he'd started getting into music. She was beginning to think that there wasn't a creative bone in his body.

In most circumstances Moira would go along with it and play along, try to come up with exciting ways someone could have gotten in. But tonight she did not feel like playing. She'd begun feeling that way a lot lately. "Is this why you're out here right now? You were trying to figure out how they got in through the window?"

"Not just in," Jacob seemed glad to know that she didn't seem completely opposed to window theory. "Remember, they probably left the same way as well."

Moira shrugged. "Maybe they fell and we'll uncover their frozen body under the snow in the morning." She had begun slowly retreating out of the alley and toward their back gate, realizing that conversations like these may have been where Angie picked up her own sick sense of humor. "I'm going inside. You should come in too if you want to eat."

After a few minutes Jacob started walking in her direction, resigning to the fact that he wouldn't get any of his answers. _Tonight at least._

Jacob had barely brushed past his sister's shoulder when he heard a soft sound come from under her breathe. He turned his head, "Yeah?"

"I never said thanks," she said softly. Her face became very shy as she had trouble looking him in the eye, "For stopping me from coming home. And going upstairs even thought it was scary."

Jacob couldn't keep amazement off his face at the notion that his older tough sister thought he was brave. He let a tiny smile that only Moira could see grace his face before he flipped his growing hair out of his eyes. "Anytime." He flashed his rock star grin she'd secretly seen him practice in front of his mirror before turning to go back inside.

A small whining noise caught Moira's attention before she could make it out of the alley. Nana III, who had promptly been forgotten about until this point, was pawing at the side of the brick house. Her long face was tilted upward toward the roof, staring at something Moira couldn't see. Softly commanding, "Come on, girl," she tapped her side to get the dog's attention.

Nana III darted her head back and forth between Moira and the sky, before begrudgingly padding back into the yard. Moira closed the gate behind her and set the lock in place, letting her eyes travel upward. The night sky was foggy and dark, with hardly any stars peeking out behind the clouds. Even the moon itself had hidden, being too early to rise as of yet. With Jacob's theory getting to her, her thoughts began to retreat to the very back of her mind where she kept special thoughts. They were just small thoughts that peeped up and told Moira to check under the bed for monsters, or that strong wind blowing her hair was from a dragon yawning. She imagined these thoughts had the voices of a smaller Moira whose favorite hiding spot used to be the bottom of a dresser drawer.

As she searched the sky for she knew not what, a small Moira poked her head out from one of these drawers and gazed as well before shrugging, _"Maybe they flew,"_ before settling back down and shutting herself away.

**I want thank everyone who has made the first chapter either their favorite story or put it on their alerts. I thought it would take a few chapters to get that.**

**Also, something that used to help me visualize characters in stories when I was younger was picturing an actor playing them in my head as I read them. When I started writing stories I did the same thing, and since I'm good with photoshop I went a bit crazy and had some fun.**

**I've photoshoped a family picture of what the Woodham children would look like in 1966 using child stars I think resemble them the most. But feel free to imagine them any way you like, I purposely omitted certain details about appearance so people would feel free to imagine them any way they like. But I thought you'd enjoy, and there's more to come**

**To see the childhood photo, here's the link:**

.com/photos/10766894N00/6219047549/in/photostream


	3. Long Night

**CHAPTER THREE: LONG NIGHT**

As the household of eight (if you included the dog) began to settle down for the night, none were privy to the series of events that would occur that night, leaving a trail of foreshadowing breadcrumbs from family member to family member that would take years for them to connect. It wasn't that they were ignorant, but this night would not compare to what would follow later on in both urgency and memory. But we get ahead of ourselves.

On that cold winter night, a little girl was sent promptly to bed at nine o' clock. Her siblings joined her an hour later. A quarter after ten their grandmother fell asleep with the family dog at the foot of her bed. By eleven an old bachelor fell asleep on the couch with the television on, the only light source in the house at that hour. At half past eleven a father quietly crept downstairs into the kitchen to grab some leftover bread and soup. Meanwhile a tired mother slumped over her bed upstairs, piles of envelopes and notices littering her comforter and irritating her sleepy eyes.

At midnight the entire house awoke to a bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

><p><strong>Angie 9:32pm<strong>

She always got sent to bed early. There wasn't even any school tomorrow and she still can't stay up as late as Jacob and Moira. It wasn't fair, cause she's not even tired! Mummy told her to count sheep when she couldn't sleep, but that just made Angie think about the time the family visited her uncle Marty's farm outside of Oxford and she got to pet a baby lamb. Why a grownup would have you count sheep was just silly to her.

She huffed at the injustice of it all. Kicking off the covers she crossed her arms over her chest and stared accusingly at the ceiling. When that proved too constraining she spread out her limbs and kicked into her mattress, her legs now restless. It wasn't fair! Now she was too mad to be sleepy, and it was all because Mummy had to be mean and make her go to bed. She even threatened her with a bath tonight if she didn't. Angie pouted more at that thought; Friday was supposed to be a night off from bath time.

Muffy was next to her, lying prone and pathetic against the wall her bed was shoved against. Right now Muffy was Angie's only friend. Angie pretended that she was a banished princess laying wait in her tower until she was rescued by a knight. Muffy would be her loyal companion until the day came she would be freed, or until she finally conked out. It was an old game her and Mummy used to play when she had trouble going to sleep after a nightmare; they would pretend she was a damsel in distress locked away somewhere. Sometimes she would be guarded by a dragon or an evil queen, and once she even imagined a giant octopus keeping her in an undersea cave.

She would have so much fun coming up with a way for her to escape, because Mummy said she couldn't always wait for someone to come rescue her. That sometimes you had to be really brave and be the one to save the day. Angie could swear that Mummy must have at some point been in a sword fight, or ridden a dragon because she was never afraid of anything.

Except for today. She could have sworn she almost saw her mummy cry because the bad people made a mess. Imagine crying over a messy house! Even Angie was braver than that.

Which is the only reason she hadn't gone screaming for help when she saw there was a lightning bug in her room. Since lying down in bed it had flickered from various spots around the walls, drawing her eyes to it and keeping her awake and alert. Normally she hated bugs but fireflies weren't bad bugs like bumbles, but more like butterflies. As she saw a flash of soft like streak across the corner of the ceiling for the umpteenth time Angie had decided that enough was enough.

She slipped quietly out of bed and tiptoed toward the window. Opening it a crack she shivered as she felt the cold air travel in. If there was a way to get the lightening bug out of her room she could only think to chase it out the window.

Footsteps coming down the hall made her freeze in place, still clutching the window sill. When she heard them get closer she sprinted back to her bed and hid under the covers, feigning sleep. The footsteps paused outside her door for a moment before moving on. Angie opened her eyes a crack when she heard the sink running in the bathroom down the hall. If it was Jacob she would wait until he left and either went to his room or back downstairs. If it was Moira there was a chance that she would be coming to bed and the firefly would be her problem. She closed her eyes and listened.

Over the sound of the sink something else caught Angie's ear. A small tinkling sound, like little bells, was coming from somewhere in the room. _Oh great,_ thought Angie_, not only is the firefly keeping me up with its light, now it's decided to practice a jingle_. She heard them again and Angie lifted her head off her pillow with the full intent to tell the firefly to be quiet, but the sound of her doorknob turning sent her back to 'sleep'. Before shutting her eyes she saw a trail of light dash to hide behind Moira's bed. _That's right, you better hide._

* * *

><p><strong>Moira 9:56pm<strong>

Deciding to turn in early was the only thing Moira could think to do to escape the total boredom that had befallen downstairs. I mean really, only her family would be so shaken over a break-in just hours earlier and then quietly separate to knit or watch TV. Even drawing in her sketchpad seemed droll at the moment, and she chose to close it and make her way upstairs. She said goodnight to Tootles on the couch and goodnight to Gram, Mum and Daddy on the 2nd floor. Jacob had made it up to his room earlier and hadn't been heard from since.

After brushing her teeth she went across the hall to the bedroom she shared with Angie, she turned the handle quietly, hoping not to wake her sister. Entering the dark bedroom she tiptoed toward her bed and retrieved the nightgown under her pillow. She left the door open a tad so the soft light from the hallway could help her see. Wriggling out of her shirt and pants she slipped her nighty over her head and marveled at how cold the bedroom had suddenly become.

Glancing at the window she saw the latch was undone and the window open, letting the frigid air inside and causing goose bumps to form on her skin. She cast a glance at the sleeping Angie, whom she figured must have opened it all the way at some point. _What was she thinking? Honestly, did her sister even think?_ Based on her forgetfulness, probably not.

Going to the window with the full intent to close it, she stopped when her bare feet made contact with a crunching noise. Looking down, Moira saw she had stepped on what appeared to be one of several skeleton leaves on the floor just outside the window sill. She picked one up and examined it, trying to hold it up to better lighting. How on Earth had this gotten in here?

Without really having to, Moira leaned out the window to confirm her suspicions. No wind, not a single whisper or gust to blow a leaf this far. Despite that there was hardly a tree this tall anywhere in this neighborhood short of Kensington Gardens quite a few streets away, she had never seen a leaf like this grow anywhere before. The leaves themselves looked somewhat tropical in nature.

Closing the window quickly, she decided she was not that sleepy as of yet. Sweeping the leaves off the floor she stuffed them into the pages of her sketchbook that she'd abandoned on the bed. Next she fished inside the drawer of her night table for the few crayons she had lying around. The small project she had in mind required more light, and decided to go back downstairs rather than turn her lamp on and wake Angie up.

Back outside the hallway, she paused near Jacob's room to hear if he was asleep like the adults had thought. He pretended to be too much of a goody goody sometimes.

Instead the soft sound of a tiny wind instrument met her ears. Ugh! Of course he would be practicing his music now. But wherever in the world he got pan pipes was beyond her. He seemed in love with his guitar, which she knew he names Marilyn after Marilyn Monroe, and he still had custody of a harmonica he had 'borrowed' from her and had yet to give back. She had the mind to barge in and annoy him into finding it in that mess of a cave he called his bedroom, but decided to be nice tonight. It's not like the music was loud, barely being able to hear it through the door herself.

She knocked once, muttered goodnight, and went to brush her teeth, noting the pipes abruptly stopped as soon as she knocked.

Making her way downstairs she decided the kitchen table would do for now. Tootle's spotted her walking past the doorway from the couch in the TV lounge, "Thought you were going to bed."

"In a minute, just need the light." Walking right past him she dumped her book on the kitchen table. "And maybe a glass of water."

Opening to a blank page, she slid the leaves behind it and pressed down. Grabbing a dark blue crayon, Moira began peeling the wrappings of the brand off until it was a naked stick. Pressing the entire body of the crayon down she began to etch the outline and image of the leaves onto the paper. She wanted to have a permanent image of what they looked like so she'd have a reference if she ever found what tree they'd come from. Who knows how long they'd last until they rotted away. Just as it occurred to her that leaves in this condition usually didn't survive the winter, a small voice piped up from the doorway.

"What are you doing?" Angie asked.

Closing the sketchbook shut, Moira put on an air of ignorance concerning her investigation into the mysterious leaves. "Why are you up?"

"The firefly in our room won't stop singing. Can I have some milk?"

She shrugged, "All right."

Fetching the milk jug out of fridge, Moira was in no way perturbed by Angie's reason for avoiding sleep. A singing firefly was keeping Angie up and she herself was making imprints of leaves she found fascinating. All hopes that she was adopted had officially been trumped with how similar the sisters were concerning what caught their attention. She probably just heard Jacob in his room.

Pouring the glass halfway full, she handed it off to Angie who sipped it timidly. Moira sighed at Angie's habit of eating like a bird, "Hurry up and drink. Mum'll flip if she catches you out this late."

Taking another sip, Angie wiped her mouth on her sleeve before reaching out for the sketchbook. Her small fingers had barely touched the edge of the binding before Moira snatched it from across the table. Angie slumped against the back of the chair and whined, "Why can't I see your drawings?"

"Because they're not finished," holding the book against her chest in a protective manner. In reality she didn't want Angie to see the leaves just yet. If Angie ever saw them she'd hoped it would be after Moira had found an explanation for them being that high and landing in their window. Knowing Angie she'd just get scared knowing that anything could be able to get inside from that high up. That thought kept her on the edge as well. "Finish your milk; I want to go to bed."

Gulping the last few drops from the glass, Angie licked her lips and cheekily retorted, "Finish your drawings, I want to see them."

Tootles' voice traveled from the TV lounge, "Both of you finish up, I want to watch the telly in peace."

Taking that as their cue to leave, Moira pushed in her chair while Angie put her cup in the sink. Walking up the stairs turned into a small race as both girls lightly elbowed each other to get the lead. Eventually they couldn't keep the hushed giggles from escaping them as they made it to their floor, Angie deliberately trying to hinder Moira's lead by holding her around the middle. By the time they reached their door Angie had slid down and attempted to lock her arms around Moira's legs.

She did stumble for a moment, giving Angie the diversion she needed to scramble up and be the first to touch the doorknob. Racing inside to her bed, Angie heard Moira call her a dirty cheat before she closed the door behind the both of them. Neither of them slowed down until they had covered themselves in their blankets on opposite sides of their room. Their quiet laughter had not died down the entire time, with the girls shushing each other but in the end had only made them laugh harder.

Eventually they did settle down and both girls felt their eyes begin to droop, finally succumbing to the effects of a long day. Just before sleep took her away, Angie whispered, "Moira?"

"Mhhhmm," Moira tiredly responded.

"Can anything hurt us after we close our eyes?"

A moment passed in which Moira's brain slowly tried to form a proper response to what Angie had just asked, as well as come up with several reasons as to what brought that question on. She wondered if she'd even heard her correctly, Angie had whispered it so softly. Finally she settled on, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She took the silence as a sign that Angie found that promise acceptable, or had just fallen asleep. Either way Moira felt glad that Angie found it comforting to ask her these types of questions. Usually Mum would be the one to do those sorts of things, but lately she'd been so stressed over money and something else that Moira couldn't put her finger on, that Angie had been seeking Moira out more often for small comforts.

Falling asleep just minutes after her sister, Moira had all but forgotten to check under the bed, a secret ritual she made sure Angie never saw. Good news for her was that no monster resided underneath on this night. Instead she may have been startled to find a small ball of light hovering underneath, but she would never see it as it dashed out from under as soon as both girls were asleep. It flew towards the door and hovered near the small opening at the bottom before slipping underneath and disappearing into the center of the house.

* * *

><p><strong>Jacob 10:07pm<strong>

Awaking with a start, Jacob realized he'd fallen asleep reading again. Someone had just knocked on his door, jolting him out if his slumber. He paused before shifting to get up and answer until a muffled, "g'night" reached his ears.

Someone woke him up to say goodnight. He tiredly rubbed his eyes at the irony.

Realizing he'd fallen asleep in his day clothes, he went to unbutton his shirt and kick off his jeans. Putting on an oversized shirt of his dad's and some pajama pants, he didn't realize the entire time he'd been humming a tune he'd never heard before. Mum had told him that she'd heard him hum in his sleep before, especially if he fell asleep next to the record player when it was on. Though it belonged to the entire family, the portable record player pretty much called his room home.

He quickly checked it to make sure he hadn't left it on again before he went to brush his teeth. Even with his mouth covered in paste and the brush still hanging from his mouth, Jacob found himself humming the unfamiliar tune. When he caught himself doing it again, he realized that it was stuck in his head. This had happened before, getting ideas for songs, and his music teacher always told him to write them down as best he could into lyrics or notes.

A tune had never come to him like this before, in his sleep no less. He did his best to remember exactly how the song went. It was rather giddy if you had to dance to it, but at the same time approached the world softly. Frankly it reminded him of the children's songs they used to sing in the car for long trips.

He grabbed his guitar from the corner of his room, which itself was home to piles of dirty clothes and other odd knick knacks. Digging it out, he sat Indian style on the bed and tuned it before strumming a few cords. Trying to keep as quiet as possible, his fingers lightly tried to duplicate the song he had on his mind. He thought about using his pick but realized the sharp strums may get too loud if he wasn't careful. Trying to match the sound in his head with their proper cords proved difficult however, because he had a feeling that the guitar wasn't the right instrument for the job.

Try and try as he might his beloved guitar, Marilyn, just wasn't working for him today—err—

tonight. He let out a tired sigh and slumped back against his pillows, letting his eyes close. Where in the world had he heard this song? With his eyes closed he was actually able to remember more of it, the funny tune becoming clearer without the distraction of seeing anything. If he didn't know any better he'd say that he'd actually dreamed the song up just now, before he was rudely awakened by—was it Moira?

Speaking of the devil he thought he heard her coming up the stairs just now. The smaller steps, clearly not adult, were the first clue. The insistent giggling was just an annoying confirmation. It sounded like Angie might be out there as well when heard extra pitter patter, before the sound of a door closing silenced them.

All was quiet again and Jacob was left alone in his thoughts. Slipping his guitar on the floor next to his bed, he decided to bury himself under his covers, finding comfort in the warmth. His room was average size, just big enough to allow good floor space for play and his single bed and draws. The walls were covered in posters of motorbikes, his favorite bands, and postcards.

Usually these posters served as a comfort to him on nights when he couldn't sleep, but clicking his lamp off he found that in the dark they didn't serve much good. In fact, the darkness just made them appear like dark holes of abyss, their edges blurring and giving them a ghostly appearance. He could have sworn that his The Who poster, just across the room and directly in his line of vision, was growing larger in a slow but terrifying pace. Quickly turning his lamp on he reached under his bed, beaming with triumph when he felt the handle of his cricket ball bat. Giving his room one more look through to make sure nothing was hiding in the corner, he got back into bed and turned the light off.

Contrary to popular belief, it is not easy getting comfortable with a hard bat as you bunk buddy. After finally settling on his side with the bat gripped in his hands, he felt safe enough to try and sleep.

Emphasis on try. It seemed every sound the old house made jolted him enough to open his eyes, grip his bat and scan the room. For over an hour it worked itself out like an exhausting rinse cycle: jolt, grip, scan. Repeat. Jolt, grip, scan. Repeat.

By what had to be the sixth time, Jacob was sure he was tired enough to just sleep through any other imaginary creak or thump he could have sworn was someone trying to jimmy open the window. Not that anyone could get in any way since he'd locked it shut.

The knob on his door twisting nearly stopped his heart. How had he forgotten something as simple as locking the door? He'd been so caught up in making sure that all the little details were taken care of that he'd overlooked the obvious way to get inside. The door opened with a series of tiny creaks, and he found himself shrinking underneath the covers, fighting the natural reflex to throw them over his head and hide.

Just as he regained the grip on his bat, not knowing if he planned to swing or make a break for the hall, the familiar outline of his father's head peered from behind the door. "You still awake?"

Letting out the breathe he didn't know he'd been holding, Jacob let himself relax for the first time all night. He noticed his knuckles had turned white from the constant grip he had on the bat, which he immediately hid under the covers so not alert his father.

He nodded, and his dad quietly approached him. Feeling the mattress dip, Jacob rolled onto his back to gaze up at the dark outline his father made. He could make out his pointy chin and saw the disheveled mop of hair adorn his head like a halo, making Jacob wonder if his dad had just gotten out of bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" His dad asked. Not sure if his voice would fail him or not, Jacob just nodded again. He felt his dad shift and then pause, not needing the light to know that he'd felt the bat under the covers. He removed it, examining it with his hands before holding it up, imploring Jacob to explain.

"I thought I might need it," he was glad his dad couldn't see him that well, so he wouldn't see the shame in Jacob's eyes. "In case they came back."

"Who?" It took a moment for his dad to catch on. "Oh, the robbers! Well I don't think you have to worry about them coming back. After the way your mum was yelling earlier I think they'd be too scared."

A sliver of a smile formed at the corner of Jacob's mouth. His dad was such a goofball, always able to make him laugh when he was sad or sick. Now he guessed it worked even when he was scared, plus Mum could be pretty scary when she was mad.

With his eyes now adjusted to the dark, he saw that his father's eyes looked glassier, as if he were sad all of a sudden. Jacob didn't want him to be sad, especially just because he was feeling scared about what happened today. Father and son did not move for several minutes, but implored to one another that they needn't feel negatively about the events earlier that day.

It was his father who finally broke the silence, "You were really brave today. I didn't' get a chance to tell you earlier, but not everyone would do what you were able to." His father absolutely beamed at him, and Jacob found himself mirroring it. "Calling the police and running to make sure Moira didn't come home to that circus."

Jacob recalled with bitterness the hoard of neighbors that probably sensed something was wrong but hadn't called anything in. At least none of them had come forward and admitted to trying. "Yeah, what was up with that, anyway?"

His dad shrugged. "Nosy neighbors. But hey, at least we got some free food out of it, so it all works out in the end."

Jacob felt the covers being tucked around him and under his chin, trapping him in warmth. _Leave it up to Dad to find the silver lining in this rubbish heap of a dark cloud_, he thought. His dad smoothed the hair away from his forehead, but it didn't distract him from seeing him put the bat under his bed and out of his reach. Seeing that he was caught his dad shook his head, "You won't need it, trust me on that."

He got up and made his way back to the door, opening it a tad before turning back to him. "Tomorrow I was going to touch up the pipes so they don't freeze again this year. Wanna help? You know I'll need someone to pass me the screwdrivers."

Jacob nodded eagerly; fixing things around the house was closest he and his dad ever got to being alone. His dad smiled back, "Okay, see you bright and early. Goodnight."

"Night, Dad."

When the door closed and he was alone yet again, Jacob couldn't help but feel lighter than he had all day. The smile was still on his face as he started to drift off, thinking about how his dad had called him brave…and they would spend the whole morning together….working on the pipes…..and the song in his head…..that might perform with pipes….pan pipes…..that he should look into buying when he had spare money.

* * *

><p><strong>Jack 11:47pm<strong>

_Speaking of free food,_ Jack thought. His rumbling stomach reminded him of his original reason for descending downstairs. He had left his wife in their bedroom on the top floor, and just like their son was in a similar state of unrest. He thought he should give her a little space to cool off before their disagreement turned into a full out fight. Why Jane insisted on going over bills at this hour was beyond him and after she'd already worked herself into overdrive with the cleaning and the cooking.

Passing through the entrance to the lounge, he saw the television was still on but emitted only white noise and static. The soft snores coming from the couch confirmed that Tootles had fallen asleep in front of it again. Once in the kitchen he made a beeline for the loaf of bread in the pantry and cut himself a nice thick slice. After the soup heated up some, he poured it into a bowl and dipped the bread into it.

He decided that if Tootles insisted the TV be on, then he could at least change it to a program that was on at this hour. Slurping the soup straight from the bowl he managed to change the channel at the same time until a cowboy program came on. _Better than nothing._

Standing behind the couch, he had half a mind to shove Tootles off so he could sit on one of the cushions. He envied the man sometimes, being able to sleep soundly while others were trying to lower the tension with their spouses, or in his son's case snuggling with a cricket bat. At least his daughters were able to fall asleep without incident, as far as he knew.

Jack smiled as he recalled how last summer he'd caught Jacob and Moira downstairs after bed time, watching a horror flick that they'd been denied permission to stay up and watch. They'd thrown a blanket over themselves as they'd huddled on the couch, petrified during a scene where the monster was about to emerge from its lake domain and grab a young woman. They hadn't heard him come downstairs, thinking they'd been quiet and clever enough to avoid being caught.

He still loved reminding them how their screaming could be heard all the way down their street, when he'd snuck his hands under the couch just as the creature on the screen grabbed his victim and he'd taken a hold of an ankle each and tugged. That was the only time they'd ever called him mean and then asked if they could sleep with him that night in the same sentence.

He wasn't paying attention to the cowboy program anymore, and most of his soup bread was gone. Getting ready to head back upstairs, he hoped that Jane had exhausted herself and finally admitted that it was time to turn in. Then just as he clicked off the TV, he heard a rattling noise come from outside the house.

It sounded like something had knocked into the trash cans that sat in the alley on the side of the house. On any other night he'd take it that some rats had gotten into it and not thought of it again, but tonight he was taking no chances. That alley led to the back gate, and past that was their back door which could easily be forced open by someone strong enough. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't check to make sure that the noise was caused by anything but alley cats.

Tootles hadn't been disturbed, and as far as could tell no one else was stirring from their beds. He quietly put his empty bowl into the sink, and then pocketed one of the carving knives into the pocket of his robe. Just a precaution, nothing more.

Wincing as the back door squeaked open, which he reminded himself to grease later so it didn't rust this winter, he shivered against the cold. Clasping the folds of the robe tighter around his neck, he prayed his slippers didn't get too wet.

Another clatter made him pause for a moment, only a moment mind you, because he quickly dashed to the back gate and unlocked it. He arrived in the alley just in time to see the lid of one of their trash cans stop vibrating after hitting the ground, now resting silently.

"Is someone out here?" Jack asked quietly. No point in scaring his family or the neighbors by yelling at something that might not be there. A few small items of trash had scattered on the ground, but he'd seen the cats do worse. He decided he would wait until morning to pick them up with gloves, but went ahead and put the lid back on the trash can, turning around to go back inside.

He had only made it a few steps when the silence of the alley was shattered by metal hitting stone ground. Jack whirled around, now brandishing the knife out in front of him, to see that the entire trash can had toppled over, and most of its contents now littered the alley floor. But he had yet to see a single animal scurry away after being frightened of the noise or his human presence. No rat jumped on the smorgasbord and began to feast and no alley cat or dog scurried out of its hiding place. He was all alone.

At least that's what he'd hoped.

"If someone's out here," Jack's snarled, "They had better get the hell out of here now. I won't call the cops but I'm tired of this shit." He'd hoped that if anyone were watching him right now that they didn't notice the knife shaking in his hands.

"I'll give you until the count of three."

"One." He started stepping backwards towards the back fence.

"Two." He reached behind him to hold onto the top of the fence for support.

"Three?" To his surprise his hand met the gate door, which was now closed and bolted shut from the inside, something he most definitely did not do before charging into the alley. Someone had attempted to lock him out of the yard!

When Jane's horrified screaming pierced the air not a moment later, he all but broke the gate door down in his attempt to rush back inside.

* * *

><p><strong>Jane 11:59pm<strong>

Dropping headfirst into the comforter seemed like a good idea a moment ago. What Jane had not considered, or had completely disregarded, was the ocean of papers she'd spread all over the bed. Any movement her facial muscles made resulted in the crinkling of paper, and when she huffed in annoyance the electricity bill suddenly found itself on the floor.

Her husband, who'd managed to escape to get a midnight snack downstairs, couldn't understand why she wanted to go over bills now. It's not like she really wanted to at this moment, but someone had to act like an adult around here. The money she made at work did not measure up as much as he made, but really he could act like he paid most of the bills around here!

But no, she had gone and chased him away. Jane had to remind herself that he'd only gone downstairs for a break, but this small seedling had begun to grow within her mind that she would eventually drive him away for good. After spending almost 4 years without her father during the war, not knowing if any day now they would receive a telegraph stating he was missing or dead, she promised that she would never deprive her children of their father.

Of course she was battling the will to deprive him of their bed tonight, glancing at the bills that accompanied her instead of her husband. Why go over them now, he had asked? Why not? In the state she was in sleep was constantly escaping her, so she might as well confirm what they could and couldn't pay this month.

She had only gotten through last month's electricity when tiredness and frustration overcame her and she collapsed head first into the duvet. Stretching out her limbs she heard joints in her neck crack, clearly telling her to move this show to a desk and chair next time. Rolling to her side to get off the bed, she crumpled several notices beneath her. Making her way to the window sill, she sat up with her legs stretching out completely in front of her and across the pane of the window. She hadn't been able to lie down on it completely in years.

Before her abduction, she often lay across the window and looked up at the stars, but when her stars became falling bombs she avoided it. The first time she returned from Neverland she awoke at the window before jumping off and running to her mother full of joy in finally learning to fly. That window had become her beacon, where she would watch for Peter to come back and take her away again.

And come back he did.

The second time she was able to bring Danny with her, not that Peter would have in any way objected to another boy joining the ranks. She had lost count of the days they had stayed in the warm island sun, which she swore had a face that smiled at them when they waved. And during the nights the stars, the younger ones at least, winked at them as they passed. She was sure months had passed when for the first time in forever she thought of Mother and immediately found Peter and demanded he take them home. Following that was an awkward talk between her and Danny in which she had to remind him she was not in fact his real mother.

After a quick goodbye to the boys with a promise to come back soon, they arrived home expecting their faces to be on posters and their mother frantic with worry. Trying not to wake anybody up they had snuck into bed, hoping to surprise their parents that they were back and avoid a firm spanking.

She awoke to yelling, but just their father hollering that breakfast was ready and to come get it before school started. They had cautiously made their way downstairs to see if their parents acted out of the ordinary or more agitated than usually. All caution was thrown out the window when Danny ran to their mother and almost knocked her clear over, crying that he had missed her so much. A puzzled Wendy had returned the hug, and looked to Jane for an explanation. But she was too preoccupied with stealing away the paper from her father to check the date.

The months she thought she had spent away from home without a care in the world had turned out to be one night. Lowering the paper in a daze, Jane could hardly breathe as her mind raced. Had they really only been gone one night? Her father slowly took the paper away from her, "Daddy needs to finish checking his football scores."

The third time she'd gone to Neverland she could have sworn she'd asked Peter about it, but for some reason she could never remember if he'd given her an answer. She couldn't remember much about that final adventure at all really. Whenever she tried to think about it her body started trembling and for some reason tears came to her eyes. When Peter brought her back that final time it had started off great, knowing she and Danny could stay as long as they wanted and didn't have to worry about their parents.

She'd carried a locket with their picture inside so she wouldn't be quick to forget about them this time. Neverland made you forget, and if she wasn't careful she would truly become lost forever, much like this memory that refused to show itself to her.

From her physical reaction she could only conclude that something so horrible had happened on that final visit to Neverland that her mind had chosen to repress it. Little clues she'd picked up over the years hinted that Hook had something to do with it. When she closed her eyes really hard and tried to think on it, all she got were flashes: a man with a snow white face, the icy touch of steel tracing her hairline, and the smell of blood. Lots of blood. Sinister laughing of horrible men filled her ears but she was in the dark, trapped. Her fingers ached from scratching at a surface, trying desperately to get out of something because she was running out of air, she couldn't breathe.

Jane leant her forehead against the glass of the window, relishing the cool surface against her hot face. Over twenty years later and she still couldn't grow up and face it. Now she practically lived her life following stupid superstitions she'd made up for herself. She could never be in small crowded spaces without shaking uncontrollably. The smell and sight of blood made her sick. The first time Jack had leant in to kiss her he had stroked her face and she flinched.

Oh, Jack. Her sweet and patient husband. When or if he decided to come back upstairs she would try and make it up to him for all she put him through. Of course the last time she decided to be 'nice' to her husband she then had to reveal to him the result of her kindness was what was making her emotions bleed all over the place.

Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her arms on her knees and gazed at the sky. Her life seemed to revolve around windows. First falling asleep at them waiting for Peter to come back and play; always open to invite him in. As she got older they provided her with an escape, thanks to a rope made out of sheets, for when she would sneak out and meet friends at the park. When her parents thought her and Jack were studying, they were really sitting at the open window sill and trying cigarettes that Jack had stolen from his older brother. On the morning after school graduation she had almost caused Jack to break his leg after shoving him outside the window to climb down the drain pipe, her mother knocking at her door and asking why it was locked. When she brought her babies over to visit for the first time, she took them to the highest window so they could see all of London.

Getting up she made her way over to the bed and picked up all the papers, stuffing them in the drawer to be dealt with in the morning. What was she thinking, wanting to go over bills this late anyway? She went to take off her dressing gown and hung it up in her closet, then turned the lights off before pulling the covers off her side of the bed.

She didn't hear the window handles squeaking as the latch slowly turned clockwise. Nor the creak the window panes made as they were cautiously pushed open. But when the room grew colder and she heard the rustling of the curtains as the wind came through, that was when Jane froze. Fighting every nerve in her body to scream, she slowly turned her head back to window. In the corner of her eye she saw a dark figure take up the window frame, filling it up with a shadowy presence that Jane didn't know how to react to. It cocked its head to the side. "Wendy?"

But when she saw the glimmer of steel in the figure's hand, that was when Jane let go and screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>12:03am<strong>

The figure watched as the woman began screaming her head off at him. He quickly jolted backwards and out the window, wondering what he had done to frighten her. He was so taken aback that he dropped the shadow he had been clutching in his right hand and it slithered away from him—and into the open air!

As the lights in the house began to flicker on, he scrambled to see where the shadow had gone, knowing that it could be anywhere if it had gotten loose outside. He saw it scamper down the brick wall, past a window that revealed a young boy running down the hall and wielding some sort of bat. The dog, absent from its doghouse, was barking up a storm from somewhere in the house. Voices began yelling from top to bottom and the thundering of footsteps told him he had to hurry. He saw the shadow slither across the snow covered yard and take refuge in the shadows of the bushes. It would take forever to find now!

How had this gotten so out of control? All he wanted to do was get his shadow and find Wendy so she could sew it back on like she did before. He thought he'd found her in the top room, but that crazy woman obviously wasn't Wendy. Since when had she ever been afraid of him?

A ball of light he'd recognize from anywhere quickly dashed over and pulled him by the collar away from the wall of the house and towards the roof. "Tink?"

The fairy frantically pointed toward the ground and Peter saw she'd pulled him away just as a man burst through the fence door, leaving it hanging off its hinges. Peter thought locking the door would keep him out longer than that, he didn't look that strong.

"Jane!" The man frantically ran to the back door and threw it open, letting the lights downstairs spill out into the yard.

_Jane?_ All worries that the lost girl had moved quickly vanished from the eternal youth. It had been a long time since he'd brought Jane back and he, with some urging by the lost boys, thought that it was time she come back and play. After dropping her at home last time she had requested that he not come back for a long time, to give her time to sort through things.

He figured he'd waited long enough and was so excited at the prospect of bringing her back that he'd left earlier than anticipated, so early in fact that it was daytime in London. He was used to flying under the cover of darkness, when not so many people were out and he could do tricks and explore with ease.

No one was home so he thought he'd let himself into one of the windows that looked like Jane's room. It certainly screamed girl, with stuffed animals and dolls lying about, so he assumed it was hers. The two beds confounded him for a moment before he decided to explore the rest of the house: it occurred to him he'd never actually taken a tour.

He'd floated lazily from floor to floor, with Tink buzzing about saying she thought it was a bad idea being here. She had begged him not to go, never much taking to the girls he brought back to be mothers, but insisted on accompanying him since he wouldn't change his mind.

On the walls of the stairs and hallways he stopped to look at pictures. Some were of people he recognized, others he didn't. Tink dodged in and out of any drawer and crevice she could find, exploring and manhandling any small bauble she could fit into her tiny hands.

He wondered where everyone was this time of day. Vaguely he could recall Wendy telling him that he would be sent to school and eventually an office one day if he decided to come back with her the first time she left Neverland. The thought disgusted him as much now as it did then. It was a beautiful day outside, despite its nippy air, and he couldn't imagine being cooped up in a room during the sunniest parts of the day with his nose stuck in a book. Not that he'd be taking in much from books since he didn't read.

Various objects in the room confused him. In front of the couch was a large box with glass covering the front, and little knobs peppered the right side. On top were two protruding metal sticks that looked like rabbit ears. He tilted his head to the side. "What do you suppose this is, Tink?" He began tapping the glass surface.

The fairy orbited the box while he fiddled around with it, finally beginning to fiddle with the knobs. Suddenly the glass lit up with sound and light, and Peter jumped backward clutching his heart. A small black and white man was inside the box and talking! Peter slowly approached the man in the box as he talked to Peter about a man named Capote and his party of the century. Peter turned to Tink, who had come to sit on his shoulder. "Did you hear that, Tink? This man's talking about a party, maybe we'll get invited."

Suddenly the man disappeared and instead showed pictures of the so-called party, consisting of a short man dancing with tall blonde women. "Don't save the date yet," Tink huffed. "The party's already happened; let's go find something else to do."

"I don't know Tink, that small man inside the box looks about your size." Peter laughed. "Maybe he'll want to dance with you."

She huffed and kicked his ear muttering, "You silly ass." Then she flew to the talking box and fiddled with some switches to make the glass go dark again and the little man disappeared. Peter giggled before floating back up and laying on his back, relaxing his arms behind his head. He kicked he way through the air, taking in grey ceiling that quickly became a grainy white as he passed a doorframe.

He circled what looked like a kitchen, the drawers he rummaged through containing utensils similar to the ones he and the boys made from sticks and shells. He opened a large white box and was surprised to feel winter air inside. Calling Tink to come take a look, he was taken aback by the sound of barking outside.

Shutting the door he raised a few feet to peer out the window, now only taking notice of the dog. The creature had observed someone inside the home no doubt and was making the stranger aware that she did not approve of him. Peter had the full mind to walk outside and tell the creature exactly what he thought on approval when he tripped.

Landing on his knees, he looked back and saw his shadow had tugged him to the floor. He followed his silhouette and saw that his twin's head was trapped in the door of the winter box. Looking back he should have just sauntered over to the door and opened it, releasing his shadow as well as Tink (unknowingly trapped inside). Instead he pulled his leg forward in a hasty effort to stand up, and with a painless tearing noise the shadow came loose.

It immediately began flailing about, sensing it was trapped but no longer attached to its host. Peter opened the fridge in an attempt to calm it down and was instead attacked by a frozen fireball. Tink was yelling at him and trying to berate him with her small fists, but the frozen state of her wings started to cause her descent. The shadow decided at that moment to make its escape.

It dove under the couch, Peter scrambling over it in an attempt to ambush the shadow. It caught on and retreated back under but not before Peter had grabbed one of its appendages. Peter underestimated his shadow's strength however when it hauled him entirely under the couch, the motion and his kicking legs causing the entire couch to topple backwards.

The shadow had dragged him halfway across the floor before he finally yelled for Tink to help him. The fairy struggled to fly with half frozen wings, only to find herself flung across the room by the shadow and landing hard inside a vase.

Peter meanwhile had struggled to get the upper hand, but was able to drag his shadow near the stairs and had pinned down its arms and legs. "Oh, no you don't!" He smirked as it tried to get away.

Then it suddenly stopped moving all together, lying passively under its dominant twin. Peter paused and waited for it to wiggle, wink, or wave at him but it lay there as if sleeping. Or dead. That thought had never struck Peter before and wondered if he had in fact killed his shadow. "Are you alright?" Overcome with a sudden wave of panic he relaxed his upper body, which he'd used to pin his shadow down, and sat up as a reflex to let it 'breathe'.

Bad idea.

As soon as it felt Peter's weight shift, the shadow lunged its upper body up the stairs with such force that Peter flipped backwards like a rug had been pulled out from under him. His legs shot over his head and hit a nearby table with such force that it completely knocked the vase that had been sitting atop it off. It shattered on the floor and amongst the glass sat a disoriented Tinkerbell, finally released from her porcelain prison.

She tried to catch up with Peter as he chased his shadow upstairs, crashing into the wall twice causing a picture frame to fall. They had chased it back into the girly room when they heard the front door creak open downstairs. Peter and Tink froze, the shadow slithered away and was forgotten. Peter held his breathe and listened, hopelessly wishing that whoever came downstairs didn't notice the mess they'd made. When he heard the footsteps coming upstairs he knew they had to fly away and come back for the shadow later.

_And how wonderfully that turned out_, Peter sneered to himself. Perched on a roof top with a now very awake household was not how this was supposed to turn out. If that woman, whoever she was, hadn't started screaming he could have at least still had his shadow and taken it back home with him, sewn on or not. But now he didn't even have that. Who was that woman anyway and why was she so scared of him?

His thoughts were interrupted by Tink, who landed on his knee and looked appeared at eye level. "What now, smarty pants?" She asked sarcastically.

Peter prided himself on planning out battles, and fool proofing schemes until he knew they would work. Neverland was his playground and he was its king. But this wasn't Neverland and he had no idea what the playing field was like here. Quitting, however, was not an option.

Looking up at the sky and seeing the golden arrows beckon him back home, he stood up to take flight. "We'll try again tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey everyone, I hope you all are enjoying my story so far. I'm trying to update at least once a month (my chapters are long) and so far I'm right on schedule. And yes, I realize we are in chapter 3 but still we are not in Neverland yet. Don't worry, we are so close I can already feel the tropical sun on my face as I write chapter 4. Peter and Moira will finally meet in the next chapter (will be <em>very<em> interesting) and I'm hoping to finally get them on their journey.**

**Also, in my character descriptions I am purposely keeping some pysical details omit so you can visualize these characters anyway you see physically fit. I'm trying to keep it basic, but for those who want to see how I picture them, I'm providing the following links:**

**.com/photos/10766894N00/6219047549/in/photostream The Woodham children in 1966**

**.com/photos/10766894N00/6306329033/in/photostream The Darling Girls starting from Wendy and ending with Moira**


	4. Morning After

**CHAPTER FOUR: MORNING AFTER**

Not on any other morning in the entire time Moira had been alive had she ever wanted this desperately to never wake up. She didn't want to face the questions and uncertainty that were awaiting her in the waking world, questions she not only wanted to ask herself but what were probably going to be aimed at her. As if she knew anything about what happened last night.

Shifting to get into a better position and trying to prolong sleep, Moira found that she was stuck with her back against the wall and something warm pressed against the front of her abdomen. Moira quietly groaned, '_This is what I get for being a 'nice' big sister. Why can't I just be mean and say no?'_

Curled up on her side with her golden head pressed against Moira's body was Angie, her companion Muffy had somehow wedged itself between the thin pillow and the headboard. Jacob lay on his back at the edge of the bed, his mouth open with even breathes escaping him. She noticed his cricket bat was loosely clutched in his hands.

She was at a complete loss at what to do. Not that the feeling was unfamiliar to her at this point given the events last night.

_Moira had awoken sitting stiff straight up in bed, her body reacting to the blood-curdling scream before her collective conscious had fully awoken. She heard Angie whimper from across the room, her large eyes tearing up and darting in uncertainty. Not having time to think, Moira threw her covers off and ran for the door, ignoring Angie's pitiful cry not to leave her alone._

_Moira made it as far as the staircase before stopping, grasping the rail and contemplating what her next course of action would be. Should she yell out to see if everything was alright or go downstairs to find out herself? Survival instincts took over when not only did her mother's screaming persist but Jacob chose that moment to burst from his room like a madman wielding a bat at her direction. She almost tumbled down the stairs in her effort to scramble away from him._

_He passed by her halfway down and made it to the second floor, rushing to their parent's room. Gram's door was open, and from what she could tell she wasn't inside. She'd most likely already gone to the screaming. Moira however couldn't even make her feet move, her legs having found themselves struck by rigor mortis. Her hands clenched the stair banister so hard that they'd turned white. _

_Thumping up the stairs came an out-of-breathe Tootles, pausing to look up at Moira who had yet off the steps and onto the floor. "What's going on?" His voice was high and cracked near the end. Moira could only look down the hallway and into the room where she could now hear sobbing. Tootles gave up on the girl and rushed down the hallway, "Jane?" He called out as he disappeared into her parent's room._

_A loud crash downstairs startled Moira enough for her to jump to the floor, edging down the hallway. Was someone else downstairs? Her eyes widened when her father rounded the corner, sporting a kitchen knife in his hands_

"_Daddy, what—why are you—what's going on?" Moira sputtered, her eyes begin to rim with tears. _

_But her father rushed past her, not bothering to stop, and she found herself following him. He moved like a man possessed, throwing himself into the room so fast she didn't know how he didn't stumble before disappearing inside. Standing outside the door frame, Moira slowly grasped it and peered over the side, anticipating what she might find._

_Her mother was crumpled on the ground by the foot of the bed, unintelligible words spilling from her as she tried to speak through her sobs. Gram had wrapped her arms around her mother, whispering to her and trying to get her to calm down. Tootles was kneeling on the ground as well, but kept his distance, merely trying to show Jane that he was there. Her father was bent over in front of her mother, frantically asking what was wrong._

_Jacob was slumped against the window sill, his cricket bat abandoned on the floor in front of him. He had a vacant look about him, not quite sure what to make of his mother in this state. None of them had ever seen their mother cry before._

"_He came back…he-he came to k-kill me." Jane whimpered to Gram who only clutched her daughter tighter. _

_Jack attempted to insert himself between the two, grabbing Jane's shoulders, imploring her to tell him who was trying to kill her. Jane stopped speaking, stopped moving all together to look at her husband. For a moment she held no recognition in her eyes, like she had no idea where she was. Then she looked past him and her struggles began anew._

"_Shut the window!" She shrieked, pulling out of her family's arms and rushing in Jacob's direction. If his mother had not grabbed him to her he may have shrunk away from her in fear. Jane held him to her tightly in one arm while using the other to slam the window shut, almost cracking it in the process with how much force she used. "He won't get them. He can't take my babies!"She had only just secured the latch when she doubled over in pain._

_Jack caught her and his son before they slumped too far down. He managed to wrestle Jacob from his mother and hand him off to Tootles, before turning his attentions to his wife. Her eyes clenched shut with pain and her face had lost most of its color. She groaned and clutched her stomach, her breathe suddenly escaping her in frantic pants. "Jane?"_

_He mimicked her as she dropped to her knees, taking her face into his large hands. "Jane, what's wrong? Baby, what can I do? Tell me what you need me to do." A sheen of sweat now covered her face and she looked on the verge of fainting. Jane suddenly cried out again, her whole body lurching as a wave of pain took hold of her. Thinking she was going to be sick, Jack clutched her side instead, giving her room in front of her if she needed to throw up. Instead Jane desperately reached between her legs, only to retract them quickly when her fingers became wet._

_No sooner did Jack see the blood did Jane find herself in his arms and being carried out the room. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Wendy, get her a blanket for the car!"_

_Tootles grabbed all the doors and helped load Jane into their beaten up station wagon. Wendy emerged a moment later in her dressing gown and a fresh blanket announcing she was coming with them. Tootles heard tapping from the car's passenger window, and saw Jane yelling out to him. "Keep the children safe, please! Bolt all the windows and don't let them out of your site."_

_Tootles just nodded, not sure what else to do._

_Jane then got eerily calm, drawing Tootles to her so his cheek mirrored hers against the glass. "You know the stories, Tootles. He won't stop until he gets what he wants. Please protect the children, don't let him take them."She implored each word carefully, wanting him to understand something she obviously thought he shared with her. Meeting her eyes he saw recognition and fear, and something else he'd seen before. He asked, "Who, Jane?"_

_He saw her face crumple at his failure to grasp what she meant, tears slipping down her cheeks as the car pulled away, disappearing down the street. Tootles was left alone_

_After a few minutes Tootles returned back to the house. He ushered the children, who had made their way outside on the stoop, back inside. After literally prying Angie off the bottom stair banister he led them back upstairs, rubbing circles into Angie's back and telling her that everything would be okay._

Moira told herself she let Angie get into bed with her after she'd gotten tired of the smaller girl standing by the edge of her bed for half an hour, with a beseeching look on her face. How and when Jacob found his way in was beyond Moira's knowledge and care. After everything that had happened yesterday: the break in, Jacob's window suspicions, her mother's break down…she was tired and angry. Whoever broke in may not have stolen their possessions, but they took something equally as valuable. They took their sense of security and their mother's sanity.

As Moira closed her eyes in a push to get more sleep, all she could think was if she ever caught who had done this to her family they would wish they'd never set eyes on this house. She would make them regret it.

* * *

><p>Jack carefully pulled the covers over his sleeping wife, the medication giving her body the rest it was robbed of the night before. He had to re-tuck her in after she slowly rolled onto her side with a moan. He smoothed some of her hair from her forehead before giving it a soft kiss and went to close the curtains. After last night he wanted to make sure a window was not the first thing she woke up to, lest it trigger another panic attack and cause more harm to mother and child.<p>

Jane was pregnant, there was no denying it. A few weeks back she'd come to him in tears saying she was late and that all the early signs were presenting themselves. After three children she knew them by heart. She'd hated herself for her reaction but he assured her that it only meant she cared so much about their family. They were going to go to a doctor after the holidays to confirm it but last night put a rush on that.

Thankfully Jane had not lost the baby. The doctor explained that women carried more blood when they were pregnant and sometimes stress triggered unhealthy consequences. This was Jane's body's way of telling her she needed to take down the stress level. Jack asked if it explained her explosive panic attack and the doctor told them it was likely due to changing hormones. "But if I may suggest something," the doctor took Jack aside after asking if Jane had a history of mental illness. "Something triggered this attack, whether it was the home invasion you mentioned earlier or her mind still trying to work through the fact that there will be another mouth to feed soon."

"What can I do to help? Should she cut back on housework, I mean she already works five days a week—"Jack began to ask was interrupted.

"You said she was a secretary at the car factory?" When Jack nodded he continued, "I don't think she needs to leave just yet, but keep an eye on it. If it starts to become something more than she can handle it might be best that she leave earlier. Maybe think about leaving the workforce all together."

Something irked Jack the way the doctor implied that Jane was not strong enough to work and take care of the family at the same time. Wasn't that point of all of them living in that house together, to save money and build a support network? Spotting the doctor's wedding ring he had a mind to inquire about his wife's work ethic but figured she didn't need to work with a doctor bringing home the bacon. "Well, if there's anything else than I'm going to take my wife home."

"Just one more thing Mr. Woodham, you asked if there was anything you could do for her now?" Jack nodded. "Then I suggest a change of scenery. You're wife's lost her sense of safety right now, maybe it would be best to take her on a small holiday. Get the family away for Christmas; after all it might be the last time she can get away until the baby arrives. Just until this whole this whole thing blows over."

That may have been the best advice the doctor had given. Jack said he would look into it and went to collect his wife and mother-in-law.

When they had arrived home from the hospital Tootles was sleeping upright on the couch, as if he had waited for them to return. It was 9am but everyone left in the house was still asleep. After carrying his wife upstairs, they woke Tootles and told him everything but said they would tell the children about the baby at Christmas.

The first call Jack made was to his wife's work saying she wouldn't be in because of health issues. The second call he made was to his eldest brother Mark, asking if he'd put up him and his family for a Christmas visit. While he got on with his brother Samuel, Mark's farm offered solitude and silence, with a humble wife to work it and a strong son who was almost grown enough to take it over. He could think of no better place for Jane to relax and get away from what happened. A fresh breathe of country air was what they all needed.

Speaking of which, he supposed he should check on his own children, and after thanking Mark for taking them on such short notice he went to the children's room on top floor.

Finding all of his children in the same bed both made him want to smile and weep. The way they clung to each other like lifelines was both a beautiful reminder of their love and fear. Jacob still clinging to the bat made him both proud of him protecting his sisters but mindful that he still didn't feel safe in his own house.

"Like kittens in a basket," remarked a voice behind him. Jack turned to see a very tired Wendy taking in the scene with him.

Jack looked at his children crammed on the small bed, "More like sardines in a can."

Wendy rolled her exhausted eyes and took Jack by the shoulders, leading back downstairs. "I can tell you about sardines in a can. Believe me you'll need four more bodies to even visualize what sleeping arrangement I've seen some children get into in one space." Jack tried to stifle a yawn as he listened to what he presumed were living conditions Wendy had seen some of the orphans she worked with come from. "I think its best you get some rest, let's follow the children's leads and try to get some sleep."

Jack could only nod, the full effect of being up all night finally catching up with him. Getting to his door he finally mumbled, "See you after a few winks. G'night." He paused and then shrugged, "Or good morning."

* * *

><p>Nana III large sad eyes had never looked so exhausted. She lay pathetically on the ground facing her dog house, the snow having melted some so she wasn't as wet or cold as she could have been. She whined lazily, reveling in the unfairness that she would be denied access to the one shelter she could call her own.<p>

When she attempted to approach it last night after her owners left the house, something shifted inside. Nana could see nothing, but she felt a presence inside she couldn't explain. Whenever she was in view of coming closer she felt a vibration coming from the shadowy depths of her small house. It practically shook its way an inch to the right the last time she got too close. Not sensing anything threatening from it yet, Nana just resolved to wait outside for it to come out.

Her smallest pup came out with a bowl of treats earlier, putting in front of her and petting her head. "Why don't you go inside your house, Nana? It's much warmer in there."

Nana merely dug into her bowl, not up for explaining to her pup that her second bedroom was currently occupied. Before she could stop her, the pup had approached the house to peer inside. "Hello?" The house jumped and her pup flew backwards, hiding behind her great furry body. After a few minutes she followed her pup inside, hearing her littlest tell her biggest that there was a ghost in the doghouse.

Moira's eyes showed a hint of red as she went over what Angie had just told her. "A singing firefly in our room and now a ghost in the doghouse. How are you ever bored?" It was more statement then question, and quite condescending in her monotone voice. Angie could only stare helplessly as her sister turned back to her magazine, turning the page nonchalantly.

* * *

><p>Clinkering of silverware was the only thing that could be heard at the dinner table that evening. The Miller family's chicken breast and potatoes were on the menu that night; they were slowly working through the plates left for them by their neighbors.<p>

No one so much as spoke or looked at one another; an appropriate topic remained in the winds since Jane made had insisted she was well enough to come downstairs and eat. When Jack had tried to bring a tray upstairs she almost slapped it out of his hands saying that it was not Mother's Day nor her birthday, so she was in no way obliged to eat in bed.

It made everyone, especially the children, at a loss on what to say or talk about. The image of their mother so terrified that she had to be hospitalized kept them on edge, wondering what would set her off next. Moira glanced at her mother who was seated to her immediate right.

If Jane was aware that her daughter kept stealing shy glances at her she did not make it known. Moira had never seen an adult so helpless before and she was at a loss at what to do. Was she supposed to make a 'Get Well' card and get everyone to sign it? After nearly twenty minutes of silence Moira felt like she would scream and decided that if no one wanted to talk than she would.

"I've got to write an essay before school starts again." She said this a little too loudly, but figured that school was a safe enough topic. Nobody said anything for a moment and if everybody had not paused to look up she would have sworn that she'd imagined speaking up.

"What about?" Her father asked as he cut his meat.

"What we did over the Christmas break. Like what presents we got, if we went anywhere, if anything interesting happened—" Moira immediately stopped talking when she heard her father inhale sharply. Moira's eyes widened at the implication she just made. Quickly turning to her mother her voice betrayed her rising panic, "N-not that I would write about last night. I just meant that I would write about stuff that was interesting. Not that what happened wasn't interesting—" Oh my God, she could not shut up. She immediately moved to apologize again when her hand knocked her fork and spoon off her plate, the loud clattering of them hitting the floor making her mother jump.

Moira just wanted to sink into her chair and hide under the table. No matter what she ever did it never seemed to work, it only made things worse. She slowly bent to pick up her utensils and quietly put them back on the plate. Not making eye contact with anyone less they should see the tears that were threatening to fall, she mumbled to her mother that she was sorry.

Before she could ask if she could be excused, her mother took hold of her hands softly and squeezed. From the corner of her eye Moira could see no hatred or blame, just understanding.

Her father's cough brought them back to attention.

"Actually, Moira has brought up an excellent leader into the surprise we had for you children." Angie perked up at the notion of getting a surprise. "Want something to write about for your essay Moira? Well you can put in it that we will be spending the holidays with your uncle Mark on his farm. You'll get to be around all the animals, see your cousin Darrel again, sing carols, and this way we don't have to exchange presents by post."

"Who will take care of Nana?" Jacob asked.

"Mark says there's always room on the farm for another dog."

While her brother and sister started getting excited about the idea, something in the back of Moira's mind kept her from higher spirits. "Have you had this planned for a while?"

Jack may not have been the most domineering man, but he was not used to having his judgment questioned by his children. He raised an eyebrow at Moira, "I thought it would be a good time for all of us to get away. With all that's happened the last couple of days I think we could all use a little break. So pack a bag before you go to bed because we leave first thing in the morning."

While Angie asked if any new baby animals had been born and Jacob thought about the rifle his cousin always let him shoot, Moira could only think about the terminology her father had used for their need to go on vacation. _Get away? _She thought_. More like run away._

* * *

><p>They were told to pack clothes and shoes they wouldn't mind getting dirty, plus something nice to wear for church on Christmas. Everyone was trying to share a suitcase to save room in the car, which would already be packed with people and a large dog. Moira carried her clothes to Gram's room and knocked.<p>

"Come, come. Let's see if this all fits." She ushered Moira in and began packing the two pairs of shoes and the few clothes she brought into the suitcase Gram had provided. While her grandmother started packing her own clothes in, Moira took the time to sit at the vanity mirror and try on some of the costume jewelry that had been laid out.

When Gram was done she came over and applied a thin layer of eye shadow and rouge to Moira's face while she in turn powdered her grandmother's nose. Ever since she was small Moira would play dress-up with Gram, usually with jewelry and lady dresses but eventually it grew to include crowns, pirate bandanna's, cowboy hats and feather headdresses.

"Do you think going away is a good idea?" Moira asked before she applied some lipstick.

Gram paused in fastening some dangly earrings onto Moira's ear lobe. "I think it will be good for your mother to get her mind off things for a bit. After last night she deserves a good rest."

"So you really think she saw something at the window?"

"Your mother believed she saw something," Gram now fastened a string of pearls around Moira's neck, "And whatever it was scared her so much that she was afraid it would hurt her and you children."

"I heard mom said 'he' came back to kill her. Who's 'he'?"

Gram sighed and pinned back a stray wave of hair out of Moira's face. "Fetch me my book."

Moira bee lined to the dresser next to Gram's bed, knowing exactly which book she was talking about. _Peter and Wendy_ was Gram's bible, the way she studied the text and read the words like hymns filled her grandchildren with awe to this day. They lay back against the bed, Gram resting against the headboard and Moira resting her head on Gram's bosom as she opened the book. "I hate getting old," Gram said, dawning a pair of reading glasses.

Gram had been born in this house, raised with her two brothers only to raise her own family within it as well. Her neighbors often hosted a gentleman, who went by James Matthew Barrie, but to the children on the street he was called 'friend'. On late nights when the Darling children would sit by the open window and tell stories about a boy named Peter Pan, Mr. Barrie became intrigued. Listening to the incredible adventures these children would come up with inspired him to write them down and turn it into a book. He gave one of the earliest copies to the young girl who became his literary heroin, the same one she currently flipping through.

Apparently finding the page she was looking for, she marked it. "When was the last time I read to you from this?" Gram let out a sigh when Moira just shrugged. "Well, why don't you begin the story, on the night that Peter came for his shadow."

Moira snuggled into Gram's side and began telling the story she had been spoon fed since birth. Imagining Gram as a girl, asking a plucky boy why he was crying in her room made her laugh, "How did you not start screaming? If I found a stranger in my room I'd kick him right out, not ask what's wrong." She paused, taking into account what had happened to shape her point of view. "After what happened yesterday, any stranger who steps foot in here like they own the place will find themselves very sorry."

With a sense of pride Gram said, "I'm sure you would. Go on child." She motioned for her to continue on the story.

Moira continued on about Gram and her brothers learning to fly and heading toward the second star to right and straight on until morning. On she went about how a jealous fairy caused a whelp of a boy to shoot her, but then build her a house out of forgiveness and welcome. How Hook and Pan fought each other and rescued Tiger Lily, almost getting himself killed in the process and sending Wendy away to save her. "That's my favorite part of the story, it's so exciting. But wouldn't you have been scared, leaving Peter on the rock bleeding like that?"

"I wasn't given much of a choice. Peter would never allow a lady, much less anyone he cared about to be in such danger of drowning. Now what happens next?" Gram pressed on.

"The truce with the Indians…" Moira went on to describe the home underground feeling nice and cozy with the Indians keeping watch, and Wendy telling the story of her parents and convincing the lost boys to come home with her and her brothers. The pirates trickery of making the children think the Indians had won only to spirit them away to the ship, leaving Peter to poison himself. The belief of children saving Tink, and Peter sneaking aboard the ship for the epic battle. "Hook or me this time," Moira mimicked.

"And then what happened?" Gram asked.

"Peter brought the children home, and the lost boys decided to stay and grow up. And Peter said he would come back to get Wendy to do his spring cleaning, but he sometimes forgot and didn't come back again until Wendy had a daughter named Jane—"

"And that's where I'll cut you off," Gram's sudden interruption made Moira stutter for a moment before falling silent. Exhaling slowly, Gram began to tell her granddaughter the true ending of the story. Not because she wanted to, because she needed to. "This is not how it really happened you know. The lost boys didn't stay with us, but decided to go back when Peter dropped us at home."

Taken in by the sudden seriousness in Gram's tone, Moira found herself at a loss. "And yes while my daughter did have adventures with Peter, it was not because he brought her back for spring cleaning." Her old eyes became hooded, as if she struggled with a silent rage which she refused to allow out. "Hook got to her first."

Her siblings and she had heard this story before. Stolen from her room in the middle of the night by Hook to use as bait for Peter, Jane had been forced to outwit the pirate and save Peter and the boys. Moira had always recalled her mother's blunt hatred toward the pirate whenever a Pan story brought him up, but what other attitude would one have toward the treacherous pirate?

"Are you," Moira paused to try and find the least offensive wording, "Are you saying that Mum believes she was actually kidnapped by Captain Hook?"

Gram raised an eyebrow, "No, I'm saying she was kidnapped by Captain Hook." When Gram could see she was losing Moira she pulled the girl closer. "You love Peter Pan stories don't you? Remember them, learn from them?"

Moira nodded at all of this but had to make her grandmother understand something. These types of things weren't talked about for people her age. When she could see Gram didn't understand she gave an example. "It's like Father Christmas, or the boogeyman. We all grew up hearing about them and secretly you hope they're real even as you get older. But to come out and say that you full-on believe it, well, it makes the other kids think you're dense."

Gram stayed very quiet, looking Moira over and taking in everything she had just said. Moira hoped this had helped her understand that this was how the world worked now. When Gram spoke next it was so low Moira almost missed it. "The boogeyman is very real." She then flipped to the page she marked in her book and held it out for Moira to take. Gram turned the protective leaf page to reveal an illustration.

Countless times Moira had read from this book. Even before she learned to read the elaborate illustrations revealed all that her tiny self needed to understand the story. Maybe it was the low lighting of the room, or the jumpiness everyone was feeling from the events of last night, but when Moira gazed at the picture of James Hook glaring back at her she found herself fighting chills up her spine. The captain faced her in a fighting pose; one arm grasped his sword at this side and the other raised his hook menacingly in the air, ready to come down and tear into whoever approached. His face was looking down at her with hard eyes that held her gaze; a malicious smirk tugged the corner of his mouth, like he held a secret. It was a mean look, like the kind someone gives you when you knew they were about to come for you, their malicious intent burned onto their face. Moira found herself wondering if this is what her mother saw in her nightmares and what she thought was at the window last night.

Gram rubbed her shoulder, bringing Moira back to reality and realized she was shaking. Looking up at her grandmother, Moira held the appearance of a lost child who'd lost their foundation. Her eyes were wide and unsure, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Shutting the book and putting it on the nightstand, Gram knew she'd gotten through. "Yes girl. The boogeyman is very real indeed, and sails the Jolly Roger."

Moira burrowed herself into Gram's side, finding nothing but warmth and comfort, and a sense of safety one only got from being with a seasoned traveler in unknown territory. And though the sun had only just set and the hour was still early, Moira fell into a nice warm sleep in her grandmother's arms.

* * *

><p>For second time in less than 24 hours, Moira had awoken to Angie staring at her. The little girl was leaning on her elbows, her angelic face resting on her hands. She giggled, "I heard you snoring."<p>

Moira groaned and sat up, wiping some excess drool from her mouth. "We share a room, and you're telling me you've never heard me snore?"

Letting another laugh escape her, Angie said, "Never in Gram's bed."

"Where is Gram?" Moira had just now noticed that she was indeed alone on Gram's bed, having specifically remembered she fell asleep in her arms.

Stepping away from the bed, Angie began to sway as if dancing to a song only she could hear, "Went down for tea. Her and Mummy sent me to tell you to take a bath before bed," she began giggling uncontrollably now. When Moira asked why she replied, "Because your face looks silly with that runny makeup on. You needed a bath more than me."

Crossing to the vanity mirror to take off the jewelry, Moira noticed the damp texture of Angie's hair and the flush of her cheeks. Moira's cheeks were red with blush, but the lipstick had smeared and the eye liner had run from when she'd wiped the sleep out of her eyes. After removing the baubles, she made her way to their room to change into her robe and head toward the loo. The entire time Angie had not left her alone, tailing after her as if she'd pulled a Rip Van Winkle and needed to be caught up on everything that had happened during her half hour doze.

Angie had gone so far as to insist she be allowed in the bathroom with her while she took to the tub. Moira thought about saying no, about making her go away, but thinking about how snappy she'd been to her sister lately made her change her mind. In truth Moira had only stopped sharing baths with her siblings in the last year. Certain things were just beginning to change.

There is a point in every young girl's life when they each discover that something new is beginning. People give you more attention, especially boys whom used to push you down on the playground and say you were gross. She used to have fun with her brother and sister, but lately found herself agitated with them. She used to read her magazines for stories and coupons, but now she spent hours staring at models like Twiggy and wondering why she herself didn't look like that.

Things were simpler last year, before she began seeing the world differently. Not only were more of the horrid side of things more prominent to her but the world began to reveal itself as being very unfair. Finding that not everyone was as indulgent as her family was on fairy stories, Moira had begun keeping that side of her life to herself, though it often resulted in her just plain shutting it in, afraid to let it out and see what others thought of her. The same could be said for her body.

Angie could not, and probably stubbornly refused to accept Moira's excuse that she needed privacy in the bathtub. What did Moira do in the tub that was so different from when she and Jacob were in it? So after Moira had added a little more hot water and tentatively got in (all the while keeping her back to Angie) the little girl sat on the toilet seat and kept on chatting.

Slowly a game began to form, with Angie pretending to be the mother while Moira was her small child. Moira let her wash her back, pour water over her head, and playfully scold her for always being so difficult to take a bath. "What am I to do with this naughty child of mine?"

Moira giggled, "You could pass me the towel and let me get dry. And you could be a very good mother and go get a nighty for me from my drawer."

"Kay." And like that Moira was alone to wrap herself up without having another difficult conversation as to why Angie could not see her fully naked. But after almost five minutes Moira was beginning to wonder if it was a good idea to send someone with a short attention span on a mission to retrieve clothes. Goosebumps began to form on her skin when the cold air crept from under the doorway and she almost considered just leaving in her towel to get dressed in her room.

Finally Angie came back with what looked like a few items of clothing. "You sure took your time."

"Sorry, I couldn't figure out which one you wanted so I brought the first few things I could grab. I asked my ghost friend which one I should bring but he doesn't talk." Angie said while unloading the material into Moira's lap.

Moira regarded her. "You have a ghost friend now, Sissy?" She seemed to have brought a bit of everything: there was a light sleeveless shift she usually only slept in during warmer months, underwear, and a bundled up undershirt she was sure was there by mistake. She decided to put the undershirt on before the nighty, to keep her warm and also hide the fact she was wearing it.

Angie nodded. "Yeah, he was the one haunting Nana's doghouse. I started talking to him and asked if he'd rather be inside where it warm, so now he lives under my bed."

"He's not going to keep us up with rattling chains is he?" Moira teased. She started kneading the towel into her scalp, hoping to dry her hair before she went to bed with a cold head.

Shaking her head, Angie said no. "I don't think he can make noise. He just hides in the shadows because he's real shy."

As Moira manually dried her hair she took in Angie's demeanor and overall attitude with life. While Moira didn't keep a lot of comments to herself, to the point she was labeled a smart ass by some of her teachers, Angie had no filter to speak of. She wasn't afraid to ask questions or say what she thought because she had no concept of being thought of as silly, simply not caring what other people thought of her. Moira could remember being ignorant like that and found herself drawing Angie up on her lap.

"Hey," she made sure Angie was looking at her. "Can you give Sissy a hug?"

Angie cocked her head, merely curious at the request. "Why?"

Moira shrugged, "Because I need it."

Feeling those little arms wrap around her neck made Moira feel lighthearted. As she held onto the little girl, Moira knew she was merely trying to hold onto herself, to salvage what little of her childhood she had left. "Promise me you will always remain like this forever," Angie felt it whispered into her hair, which her sister had currently buried her face in.

Angie nodded, not knowing what else to do or what Moira actually meant. But somewhere in the heavens an angel laughed at the irony that while Moira told Angie never to grow up, she inadvertently had planted the seeds that made the little girl realize she had to.

In the heavens an angel laughed. On the toilet the girls embraced.

And on the roof Peter Pan tip toed.

* * *

><p>The backyard was empty, essential boy-shadow free after Peter had scouted it. He'd waited until the lights in the house went out and began checking under every rock and bush to find it. He'd even crawled inside the dog house but to his despair there was nothing.<p>

"If your shadow's left the yard then there's no way we will ever find it. This world's too big to search." Tink pointed out, buzzing about his left ear.

But Peter shook his head. "It's still here Tink, I can sense it somewhere nearby." His gaze went to the house and he wondered if the shadow was crafty enough to have made it back inside. Tink seemed to have read his thoughts because she immediately pulled on his collar as he began to fly towards it. "Might as well start at the top and work our way down."

Tink had given up pulling his clothes and instead lay face down on his shoulder. "This is such a bad idea," her voice was muffled by the cloth, devised out of fairy textiles with leaves and vines Peter had fashioned himself since the concept of sewing escaped him.

He went to the familiar window he'd always used, and seeing the latch undone he pushed it open. Staring at the two unoccupied beds he wondered if this room was even in use anymore. Using some of his fragmented memory he was willing to bet this was Jane's old room, so why wasn't she sleeping in it? Knowing those questions could be answered later, he went about his task.

"Shadow?" He whispered, hoping it would draw it out. He went to all the corners in the room that it could hide in, putting his hands into every nook to try and tickle it out. He was just checking the closet when Tink began pointing excitedly under one of the beds. "Did you find it?"

She nodded and clapped her little hands, so happy to be useful. Peter got on his hands and knees and peered under. If one wasn't looking for a shadow, then any normal person would not have noticed the darkness under the bed as anything more than that. But Peter saw the odd clump of darkness, the overlaying shapes of what looked like a head, crossed arms, and enfolded legs. Peter smiled as he recognized his twin and began to reach underneath, "Got' cha."

With his upper torso under the bed Peter did not hear the bedroom door open. No light spilled in because the hallway light was off, unnecessary for someone who knew this house backwards and with their eyes closed. Peter hit his head when the shuffling of weight and feet alerted him, and when he stood upright there was a gasp. Whether the sound of surprise came from him or the figure in front of him we would never know.

A girl his size stood their staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth parted in shock. She stood frozen and he mirrored her, each taking the other in and assessing the threat. Her eyes started to dart unknowingly and Peter recognized the fear in them, seeing his hand instinctually hovering near his hip where his knife lay. She closed her mouth and found his eyes, holding his stare and trying to figure out what he would do. His eyes mimicked her surprise at first, but then appeared confused.

'_Is he honestly surprised that I'm here? This is __**my **__room!'_ Moira's few coherent thoughts allowed, because the rest of her body was screaming: there's a boy with a knife in your room. Get out of there. Now.

Peter saw her move before Moira's mind even contemplated it. He saw her eyes dart to the door, still open a crack and saw the shift in her weight. Moira didn't make it two steps before Peter was upon her, using his weight to push her back-first into the door, effectively shutting it in the process. Her squeak of surprise was cut off by Peter's hand covering her mouth.

"Shhhhhh," Peter hissed in her ear. She began to struggle, bringing her hands up to push him away. He tried his best not to move, to show her that he meant her no harm. He needed her calm if she was too answer the questions racing through his head, like who she was and why was she in Jane's room?

After getting nowhere by pushing him, Moira pressed her hands against the door and brought up her knee, missing her intended target but startling him enough to jump to the her left. He was blocking the door so she resolved to rush forward to get away from him. Peter recovered quickly and dove after her, knocking them both off balance and onto the floor with a thump which Moira prayed her parents below would hear. Moira cursed at but was also thankful Angie had decided to sleep with Jacob tonight.

Peter used one hand to cover her mouth again and effectively trap her head on the carpet, the other grabbed her free arm to pin it to the floor. Normally he would never get into physical scraps with a girl, but he'd had enough screaming women in the last two nights to last a lifetime. He leaned his weight on her upper back, effectively winding her and causing her movement to slacken.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Peter hissed, his head now rested in the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Be still." Peter could feel the hand that held her mouth moisten and realized she was crying, pitiful moans trying to escape her mouth.

Peter knew she would not calm down at this rate. If he didn't let go she could eventually make noise and alert the adults, and he might never get his shadow back. If he let go of her now she **would** make noise and alert the adults anyway. He came to a decision.

"Open the window Tink, quickly," Peter whispered frantically.

Once it was pushed open enough, he dragged them both into a standing position and pulled her across the room. If she wanted to scream her head off then he would take her to a place she could do just that. Once she calmed down he could talk to her and get his answers.

They stepped onto the window ledge. Moira had just enough time to realize what he was about to do when he threw them both out the window. Her shriek was muffled as they fell several feet before Peter got used to the weight adjustment and they began soaring against the wind, over her backyard, and soon over all of London.

* * *

><p><strong>An early Christmas present for my reviewers and the many people who've read my story. Thank you all so much for making this first fanfiction so worthwhile.<strong>

**Check out my profile for more links to artwork related to this fanfic, I've added some since the last chapter**


	5. Taking Flight

For someone so determined to get away from him this girl sure was clinging to him for dear life right now, Peter thought. He had made it to the top of Big Ben in a matter of minutes, and with just his luck the clock hands were at 11:05, allowing the hands to form a perfect V shape. He carefully laid her on the hour hand, which she clutched desperately when she realized just how high they were. He relaxed his arms behind his hands and lay back against the minute hand, observing her.

After several minutes Moira got the courage to open her eyes. Upon seeing that her surroundings hadn't changed she shut them again, willing the entire thing to be a dream. "H-how did we get up here?" The Moira stuttered.

Peter grinned, "We flew."

Snapping her eyes open, stared at him in disbelief before turning her gaze to the ground below her, which due to fog and darkness of the night she could not even see. She hid her face and moaned as a gust of wind shook her foundation. She looked up when she thought she heard her kidnapper ask her a question. "What?"

"What's. Your. Name?" Peter enquired.

She thought about refusing to answer him, about yelling at him to take her home. But she knew he could very well just leave her here to hang until morning and some elderly clock cleaner found her. "Moira," she mumbled.

He seemed to take in her answer before leaning forward and extending his hand, "I'm Peter." She hesitated and Peter thought it was because she was too scared to let one hand go of the clock arm, but instead she stared at him with wide eyes.

"As in Peter Pan?" She asked slowly

Peter grinned, "Well, that's what some call me." He leapt away from the clock and floated through the air, mimicking a backstroke.

Moira's jaw dropped and she buried her face back into the clock hand. "I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming," she repeated to herself, trying to will herself into consciousness. "I've fallen asleep with Angie and Jacob. I did not get up because Jacob kicks. I did not decide to go back to my own bed—Oww!" Moira's head snapped up when she felt a sharp pinch under her arm. Peter had just pinched her.

"You feel that?" He was now floating right next to her at head level. She nodded. "See, you're not dreaming." He crossed his arms over his chest and tried looking at her sternly. "Now I've got some questions for you and I expect you to be honest."

Moira blanched. "Me to be honest? I found you lurking around my bedroom and you think I'm the dishonest one?"

"Now that's how I know you're lying," he retorted. "I happen to know for a fact that that room belongs to Jane, so where is she?"

Confused, Moira replied, "Why would my mother stay in the old nursery? She sleeps downstairs with my dad."

Peter was about to retort but he stopped midway. His eyes softened and for the first time since spiriting her up here he was at a loss at what to say. He turned partly away from her, trying to gather his thoughts before glancing back, "Your mother?"

"Yes," Her voice was quiet now, not because she saw Peter struggling with some inner turmoil but because she was starting to put together Peter's abrupt arrival and the sudden upheaval of their home security. "Were you the one who broke in and trashed our house the other day?"

"Technically it was my shadow that made the mess," Peter began to explain but was again cut off by Moira.

"And were you the one that scared my mum at the window last night?" Her voice rose with every word. Moira was able to sit up, her back pressed against the clock face and using both hands to balance herself on her seat.

"_**That**_ was Jane?" Peter stared in disbelief. "I thought that was Wendy—hey!"

Moira had swiped at him, cuffing him on the shoulder. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" Peter moved to avoid another hit. "YOU SCARED HER SO BAD SHE WENT TO THE HOSPITAL!" He was suddenly glad he'd brought her here, wondering when the screaming would start.

Moira was abruptly caught off guard when a ball of light shot up and into her face, darting about. She gave thought to swatting it away when she saw inside the ball of light was a tiny woman with wings. "Tinkerbelle?" Giving pause it gave the fairy a perfect opportunity to knock the girl on the temple with her tiny fist once before flying away.

"What do you mean she went to the hospital? Is she alright?" Peter asked worriedly.

"Now she is." She was taken aback by the concern in his voice. "She got so worked up that Dad had to take her there to be calmed down."

Calming down some, he asked, "Why did she scream when she saw me at the window? All I wanted to ask was for someone to sew my shadow back on."

Moira slid toward the center of the clock, where she was able to grasp both clock hands and keep her balance. When she was comfortable she wouldn't fall she answered. "She thought you were Hook coming to kill her, or maybe even take us kids away as revenge or something. At least that's what Gram thinks."

"Gram? What's a Gram" Peter asked taking a seat next to her, she moved to give him enough room.

"Gram's what we call our grandmother," Moira paused. "She's Wendy."

Peter took it all in slowly, leaning forward with his chin in his hands. Jane had asked him not to come back for a while, so he'd stayed away, but he hadn't thought he'd stayed away that long. Jane had grown up and had a girl of her own, a girl he had kidnapped from her room like he was no better than a pirate. The same pirate that Jane had mistaken him for. And Wendy…..

"Are you okay?" Moira whispered.

Peter snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat. He was a boy capable of many things, and unlike his fairy friends could feel many emotions at the same time. But he had the ability to choose which ever emotion he wished to display. Peter also had this uncanny ability to recover from every tragedy rather quickly and put on an air of confidence, which he summoned pronto.

"I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle actually." His voice had perked back up and he stood back straight but kept his hands on his knees, tapping his fingers. Moira wrapped her arms about herself when a particular chilly wind whipped her long hair around, bringing her back to the reality that she was outside in the winter night with no sleeves or shoes.

Peter noticed as well and wrapped one arm around her to try and warm her up. "Sorry, I didn't think about the cold when I brought you here. I just thought this would be a better place for you to yell at me."

With the threat of physical violence thrown out the window Moira found it touching that he was concerned for her well-being. Things were calmer now and Moira wanted to keep the sense of civility in the air. "Sorry I hit you," she murmured.

"You wouldn't be the first," Peter chuckled. "And I'm sorry for scaring you."

Warming up, Moira let her hands drop to her lap. Peter was more covered than her but not by much. His entire shirt seemed to be made of a fabric composed of skeleton leaves and spider silk, with strings of vine weaving patches of his shirt together like stitching. His pants were a similar matter but more torn, with what looked like green stockings that had seen better days. On his hip was a belt that held a long dagger in his holster.

"So you came back for your shadow?" Moira enquired.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "It got caught in a door when I first arrived. It was during the day and no one was home so I decided to go exploring the house," he paused. "I tried to get it back but it fought me and we decked it out around the house, making a mess. Again, sorry 'bout that." He added.

"S'alright, we cleaned it up," said Moira.

"I've never come to the house during the day," Peter confessed. "It was different and more risky. I guess that's why I did it. I hightailed it out when I heard someone come home."

"That was my brother," Moira piped up. "He told me later he'd heard someone upstairs but couldn't figure out how they'd gotten in or out. He suggested the window and I didn't believe him." She looked at the view in front of her. "I can see why you prefer to fly at night; London is so beautiful this time of year with all the Christmas lights."

The view from her bedroom was nothing compared to what Moira was seeing now. The entire city was laid out in front of her like a blanket, but twinkling like the night sky. "I can see my house from here," she pointed Peter towards over the river and on the left. Trailing her finger along the right she excitedly pointed, "And there's my school over there." She craned her neck to the far right searching for another familiar spot, finding it she leaned forward. "And over there was where—Ahhhh!"

In her excitement she'd leant so far forward that the little room she had to sit on disappeared out from under her. She lost her balance and fell straight down, only to feel another hand clamp down on her wrist as she dangled. Peter pulled her up and to her surprise they were both laughing. He cocked his head. "What got you so excited that you almost went a-tumbling?"

Still wearing a grin, Moira pointed to a far corner of her neighborhood. "Do you see that street corner over there, where that traffic light is?" Peter nodded. "About two years ago it was on that corner where my brother Jacob and I were walking to the park when we got jumped by this older boy, Paddy Donnelly, and his crew. They used to pick on us at school and take our milk money, sometimes even pushing us." Moira recalled every shove and taunt, every ugly name they'd thrown at them. "And I guess that day we'd had enough and before we knew it we started scrapping it out in the street. We gave as good as we got back because by the end Paddy and I had matching split lips and Jacob got one of his loose teeth knocked out."

Peter could imagine Moira fighting back. Heck, she'd almost given him a run for his money when he tried to overpower her. And from what he'd seen she fought dirty when needed.

"So you've got a brother?" Peter asked.

Moira nodded. "And a sister, her name's Angie. She and I share the room I found you in."

'_That explains the extra bed,'_ Peter thought.

"What were you doing in our room anyway?" Moira asked.

Peter suddenly remembered his shadow, and hoped it was still where he left it. He explained to Moira about how for the last two nights he'd attempted to get his shadow back, but it kept evading him or someone in the house interrupted him so he had to fly away or leave abruptly.

Moira sighed and shook her head. "All this trouble for a shadow," she murmured.

"Well it's not just that," Peter corrected softly. "I came to bring Jane back to Neverland. It had been such a long time and the lost boys had been asking for a while to bring her back and I figured she'd had enough time back home." Peter paused, his lips getting thin. "Looks like I waited too long."

For a few minutes neither of them said anything, just sat contently on the clock hands and only glancing back when the minute hand moved. They probably would have stayed that way if not for Tink, who took her place on Peter's shoulder that faced Moira, effectively putting herself between the two children. Moira eyed the fairy, who crossed her arms and sat Indian style.

"The boys don't worry that you've been gone a couple days?" Moira asked.

Peter shook his head. "Probably too busy having fun to notice. Besides, I always leave someone in charge to make they don't get into too much trouble."

"How many boys are there now?" Asked Moira.

"I don't bother counting anymore; we usually just have a sound-off when I call attention." Peter stopped to listen to Tink, who began whispering in his ear. "Why should I tell her that?" He asked Tink, who just huffed out a series of tinkling sounds that sounded suspiciously like 'Just do it!' Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he turned to Moira. "She wants me to tell you that there so many boys that not a single girl could take care of them, that they are wild so you shouldn't even bother trying."

Sending the fairy a glare, Moira could see Tink lived up to reputation for being jealous. "Forget wild, you should deal with weird kids. Wait until you meet my sister." Speaking of the little girl, Moira remembered her sister speaking of her ghost friend. "Your shadow's under Angie's bed back at the house isn't it? We should go get it."

Peter nodded and pushed himself forward and into the air. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" He had made it at least twenty feet before pausing mid-air, turning around and sheepishly flying back where Moira still sat, unwilling and unable to leave.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You are forgetful, aren't you." It wasn't really a question.

He smirked, "Not one of my better traits. From now on I'll try to show my better ones, for example." Still floating, he held his body straight up as if he were standing. "I am horribly ashamed at the circumstances surrounding our first meeting mademoiselle, and beg you to allow us to start anew with a clean slate," he bent at the waist and gave her a graceful bow. "Peter Pan, at your service."

Moira had never been bowed to before, and found the gesture strange but not unpleasant in the slightest. Unable to curtsey without the risk of falling, she held out her hand for a shake. "Margaret Jane Alice Woodham, my friends call me Moira."

Peter stared at her hand, not used to shaking the hands of a girl even after Jane. He grasped her hand but instead of a customary shake he brought her hand to his lips and gave it a quick kiss. "Then Moira I shall call you. Now come," he used the hold on her hand to drape her arm over his shoulder, his other arms going under her knees. "Away we go."

And like that they were off through the air, a sullen Tinkerbelle dragging her wings behind them.

* * *

><p>Moaning, Jacob pushed Angie's feet out of his face. The girl looked like she had belly crawled to the end of the bed where she had decided to settle on her stomach. That girl could honestly sleep anywhere.<p>

He knew that Moira on the other hand was a light sleeper, and whenever they shared a bed she always had to complain about how much he kicked. She once got so irritated with him that on a camping trip he awoke to find himself outside the tent when it started raining, Moira having earlier dragged him by his sleeping bag outside when she couldn't take his restless legs. He promptly told her that if she had a problem then she should have been the one to leave.

'_Looks like she took my advice," _Jacob thought, noticing her absence.

And just like the rain was Mother Nature's way of waking him up outside the tent, nature was calling him to get out of bed and take care of business. Trying not to wake Angie, he crept out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing his empty glass by the bed. After using the toilet and washing his hands, he filled up the glass of water and took a sip before making his way back to bed.

But he wouldn't settle down, something in the back of his mind kept telling him that he needed to do something. Not really wanting to get up, he huffed into the pillow. Sneaking a peak at Angie he felt a childish rush of jealousy at how heavy she was sleeping. Stretching his foot out he took a soft jab at her with his toe, disturbing her enough to make her groan and turn more onto her side.

After a few minutes he decided that he needed to make sure Moira was okay before his mind would allow him to sleep. Without opening his eyes he reached under his bed for his ever-faithful cricket bat, and made his way outside the hallway. Since the other night he couldn't find himself able to get to sleep unless he knew his sisters were nearby and safe. When he had gone to check on them last night he found them both asleep in Moira's bed, and figured that the best way to protect them was to stay with them.

I mean, how else could he make sure they were safe? Certainly not away from them. All alone. In his dark room. By himself.

Convincing himself that that was the only reason, he creaked the door to the girl's room open just a peek, to get his fill so he could be back off to bed. But what he saw made him pause in the doorway as he took in the site before him. His blood ran cold before pumping furiously through his veins, urging him to grip his bat handle tighter. He wasn't thinking as he propelled himself through the door and into the unknown, with only one thought on his mind.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!"

* * *

><p>Moira had never thought she'd have a view of London while flying in the arms of a boy old enough to at least be her grandfather. But she did.<p>

She never thought she could somehow sew a squirming shadow back onto said boy to the point where one could ever know that the shadow a few moments ago had a mind of its own. But she did.

And never did she think that she would be getting coaxed to jump out a window and try to fly with nothing but happy thoughts to guide her…She was still working on that.

While getting his shadow sewn back on Peter had begun to regale Moira about his life back on the island. Moira was very inquisitive and he was all too happy to feed her appetite. "Where do you and the boys live?"

"In the home underground, but sometimes we go camping when we want to explore," he said. "And then there are times we play games all night and don't even know how long we've been gone until we see the sun rising over the water and the island comes back to life."

Moira could hear the pride rising in his voice as he spoke about his home. She tried not to sound too excited but it was just beginning to set in with her that this was really happening. Neverland did actually exist, meaning that there was no shame in her believing it deep down. Peter Pan was sitting across from her on the bed as she finished stitching his shadow the edge of his feet. He had noticed her smile growing as he spoke on and an idea had begun to form in his head.

He had mentioned the mermaids and Moira had asked if they were still mean. He brought up the wild animals but she asked if they'd killed any of the boys. She seemed to respond positively to anything having to do with their simple day-to-day activities. "Some of the boys will bring home kills and we'll roast them over a spit. Usually we just eat what's left over for days until we run out."

Moira cut the thread with her teeth and tied a knot. "Are there no set meal times?

Peter shook his head. "There's no one around to make them."

"Oh?" Moira raised her eyebrows. She had begun resting her head in her hands, listening intently.

"Or to fix our clothes, or tuck us in at night, or tell us stories," Peter continued on, his becoming innocently wider with each word and his lower lip beginning to form a pout.

"Mum used to do all that for you guys?" As much as she tried to Moira had a hard time picturing her pre-teen mother playing house. Peter shrugged, giggling at the memory of Jane trying to adjust to role of mother. In the end they decided to call her Lost Girl, a very different title to that of Mother but one that was just as prestigious. "Not always, she never quite got the hang of it. Her story-telling improved over time but she wasn't known much for anything else. She was fun." Peter added that last little part in hopes of that he hadn't made Jane out to be a total bore. While she was an irreplaceable friend to him and the boys she was certainly no Wendy.

Moira looked off into space trying to imagine her mother as a child, running through a jungle with a ragtag of boys. "It's just so weird to imagine a time when she was fun. She's usually so serious, unlike our dad."

Nodding, Peter said, "Jane is one of the most serious girls I have ever met. And I should know, for I have met four girls." Seeing Moira raise an eyebrow he went on to explain. "Tiger Lily, Wendy, Jane and now," he paused before holding out his arms in her direction as if revealing the next great act in a show, "You."

Peter's ear was immediately assaulted by Tink's excessive yelling in her bell language. Rolling his eyes he added, "And you as well, Tink."

Despite her misgivings about the fairy Moira found herself laughing at the playful banter between her and Peter, the fairy seemingly as much a child as they were. Tink really couldn't have been all that bad if Peter had been putting up with her for the last several decades, though she imagined years to Peter flew by as easily as he himself.

"But you know," Peter began to say when she stopped laughing, floating backward and off the end of the bed. "You're not quite like the other girls. You lack something." He put his hand under his chin, mimicking deep thought.

Moira snorted, "Like what?"

"Stand up, quickly." Peter looked very excited, acting as if this entire thing were a game. "Let me have a look at you and I will show you the problem."

Moira stood up at the foot of the bed so her and Peter were of equal height. He made a quick show of examining her, uttering 'uh-huh' whenever he seemed to find something worth taking note of. He lifted up her wrists but didn't feel her pulse, for if he did he certainly would have noticed it quicken. Moira had to keep herself from leaping forward when Peter suddenly disappeared behind her and pressed the side of his face against her back and asked her to cough. He finally finished after placing his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He jumped away, apparently finding the ailment he was searching for. It was nothing like Moira expected.

"It's a bad case of normalcy. You reek of it."

Moira decided to play along, "How did you figure that out Dr. Pan?"

"A good doctor can tell merely by taking a whiff," Peter's nostrils raised as if he still smelled something foul. "And from the smell of it you've got it bad, one of the worst cases I've seen in my career."

Raising her hands over her heart, Moira feigned a look of faint horror. "Then I beg you good doctor, tell me what I must do. I implore you." Moira staggered to the ground and lay down face first at Peter's feet. He kneeled down to turn her over, the sound of muffed giggles escaping her as she continued to keep her eyes closed.

"Nurse Tink, quickly prep the patient for treatment. We must de-normalize her at once." She heard Peter say.

Moira let one eye peek open, "What treatment? What do you plan on doing?"

"You smell of normal, dull, and every day. We must remedy this at once by making you smell like excitement, fun, and adventure. Dust her Tink, we must take leave at once!"

Tink slumped her shoulders and looked at Peter, her pitiful eyes speaking for her 'Do I have to, really?' But she didn't have to wait for an answer because Moira sat straight up and gaped at Peter, "What?"

He reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling her up to him. "It's the only way. Come quickly, we have to go!" He began pulling her along the floor. Moira was dazed for a moment as they approached the window, Peter still flying while she remained grounded. She snapped out of it when her knees hit the window sill. "Wait!" Peter turned back to her questioningly. "Leave? Where are we going?"

She already knew the answer.

"Neverland of course," Peter tried to coax her to step up onto the sill, and when she wouldn't he eased the grip on her hand.

"I-I can't just leave," she stammered, stepping backward. Peter paused in his actions before following her back into the room.

Cocking his head to the side, Peter asked, "Why not?"

'_Yeah, why not?' _Moira thought. The tone Peter used when he asked her that was laced with nothing but childish perplexity, not the irritable anger she almost expected him to take. Still she found herself coming up with excuse after excuse as to why she couldn't possibly leave.

"We're leaving early in the morning to visit my uncle. I can't just up and leave for who knows how long," Moira found the obvious excuse was the best.

Peter did not find any problem with it apparently. "I can have you back before morning."

Moira scoffed, "There's no way. I remember Gram's stories and she was gone for days every time she went with you."

"Yeah, in Neverland time." Peter explained. "The island runs on endless time for us based on whatever we want."

"Then how come you came here thinking it was still the 1940's?" Moira put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrow. If he thought she could fool her into thinking she could stay away without getting in trouble he was dead wrong.

"The only reason I can think of is because I've been in Neverland longer than anyone else free to come and go. Since it's my permanent home time doesn't affect me or really allow me to control arriving at the time I want outside of Neverland." He saw Moira thinking it over and trying to make sense of it, so Peter decided to add the cherry on top. "Wendy and Jane always arrived home at the exact time they needed to be home, no matter how long they stayed,"

While that should have put her at ease he saw that Moira still trying to find a reason why this idea was terrible. "What's wrong, are you worried that it's not safe? Because I'll protect you from anything that you can think of."

Peter reached for her hand and slowly began to draw her forward and back towards the window. Though moving forward he could still feel resistance on her part and decided to take one matter out of her hands.

He turned to Tink and softly commanded her to dust Moira, who was currently looking over her shoulder at something. When the reluctant fairy did as she was told, Moira shivered and closed her eyes when she felt the dust coat her.

"You have to learn to fly first before we can go anywhere. Here let me show you," Peter guided her up onto the window sill. She could see her breathe as she took in the dark city ahead before she looked up towards the stars.

"You have to think of a happy thought and let it lift you into the air, and then off you go," she heard Peter say. So simple.

Yet Moira gripped the window frame with apprehension. Could she really go through with it and fly? The only reason she was not soaring at the moment was because a small part of her mind was telling her to wait, but for what? To wake up and find out that none of this had happened? Her heart felt like it was plummeting at the thought of none of this being real, that no one else could be there with her to confirm what her heart was telling her was true. She gasped when it occurred to her why she was waiting.

"Do you know what you could do to make me really happy, Peter?" Moira all but whispered to the boy, who leaned in closer to her to hear. His eyes were lit up like Christmas lights, eager to hear her secret. "Name it," he challenged, knowing there was nothing he couldn't do.

Looking over her shoulder again, Peter saw more specifically that she had earlier been looking at the empty bed his shadow had taken sanctuary in. The bed that did not belong to her.

Moira jutted her chin out, determined to get what she wanted. "If I go we all go. I want to take Jacob and Angie with me."

She saw his face overcome itself with pleasant surprise, as if he were expecting something more challenging. But still seeing a hint of reluctance she jumped in, "Jacob can be a new lost boy, and I'll take care of Angie. You won't have to worry about a thing." She promised.

After a few moments Peter rose and stuck out his hand, "Deal." Moira and he shook on it, but instead of letting go Peter pulled her away from the window panel. "But let's get you squared away first on flying."

With his hands now on her shoulders he guided her towards the window's edge, toeing the line delicately. She felt her upper body tip forward, Peter's doing of course, and briefly thought if she should just jump or lift up a foot and walk off like a pavement curb.

"_GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!"_

She neither jumped nor stepped off; in fact she sort of tumbled. Panic set in as she lost her balance, waiving her arms almost comically to try and shift her weight back on the ledge. Twisting her torso in a desperate attempt to grab onto anything, she felt her lower body anchor over and outside the window. Her upper body took a painful hit as it flattened itself on the window sill, her arms desperately trying to hold her up as the wind was knocked out of her.

When she opened her eyes she saw Peter and Jacob head to head, or should we say bat to dagger, in a battle of wills. Even trying to catch her breath she could tell by Peter's stance that he was hardly trying when it came to fighting off Jacob's advances. Her brother preferred to fight blindly and always was afraid of actually hurting anyone, being brought up around sisters who tended to cry out when hit.

In an effort to try and haul herself back over the ledge, she planted her feet against the outside wall under the window to try and push herself up. Only her toes would reach it, barely enough to give her any momentum. Inside Peter had attempted to grab the bat from Jacob, resulting in a vicious tug of war. Upon seeing that Jacob would not let go of the bat, Peter used that to slowly begin lowering both of them toward the floor.

Jacob could hardly keep the cry of unfairness from escaping him as Peter tugged the bat, as well as Jacob's body, forward. Trapping Jacob in a headlock, the both of them lay in a struggling heap on the floor, Peter using his own legs to trap Jacob's.

"Calm down. If I wanted you dead you'd be cut down already," Peter hissed.

Meanwhile Moira found herself slipping, her hands becoming moist causing her fingers to lose their grasp of the sill edge. Using her palms proved to slow down the inevitable, but soon found herself dangling out the window completely.

"Guys!" She panicked, her fingers slipping. Hearing movement she could only pray that they heard her, her voiced strained from using all her strength to hold on.

Both boys had stopped what they were doing upon hearing Moira. Peter let go of Jacob who was on his feet the moment he was free. Forgetting their quarrel they both dove for the window and the disappearing fingers on the ledge.

But Moira could feel it before it happened, her weight being too much anymore. "I'm can't hold on—I'm slipping—"

And she was gone. The boys were so close that she was sure she felt one of them touch her fingers before they could get a grasp. Clutching her eyes shut, not wanting to know when she'd make contact with ground, she wondered briefly if her parents would see her falling past their window. The rush of wind in her ears made her curl into herself before her body suddenly jerked and she found limbs splayed out.

She had stopped moving. She hadn't hit the ground. Cracking her eyes open she saw Jacob and Peter staring with horror from the window, which was not as far away from her as she'd thought. Peter had a foot on the ledge as if ready to jump after her until she had stopped. Timidly reaching behind her she felt nothing but air, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw she hovering at least twenty feet from the ground. She looked back up at the boys.

"I guess you're happy thought being not dying is a good motivation to fly, huh?" She nervously cracked.

She saw both boys let out a nervous laugh. Moira was not sure how to control moving in flight just yet, and not wanting to ask for help just yet decided to clear the air between the boys. "Peter this is Jacob, my brother that I mentioned earlier. Jacob, this is Peter Pan, no introductions necessary."

While Moira struggled into a more upright position, Jacob uneasily looked over at Peter. "Are—are you really Peter Pan?" Peter nodded. "I'm not dreaming or anything?"

"No, and what is it with you guys and always thinking you're asleep? Moira thought that too until I pinched her."

"Why are you here?" Jacob asked after a few moments.

Peter pointed behind him, indicating the shadow that stretched across the floor. "Came back for my shadow. Moira was nice enough to sew it back on," He looked out the window and saw she had progressed halfway up. "And now she's gonna come and be our new mother. If she ever gets the hang of flying, that is."

"Don't laugh at me," Moira's head made an appearance in the window, where she saw Tink leaning against the side of the window looking quite bored. "And don't look so excited to see me Tink." The fairy tilted her head and sneered at her.

Jacob looked at his elbow and jumped, only just now noticing the fairy. Things were becoming very real for him a little too quickly. "B-but you can't just go away to Neverland!"

Moira took Peter's hand when he offered to help pull her inside. Back on her feet, she breathed out a sigh in relief. "I'm not. We are." Jacob's eyes widened and she explained. "He said we could all go: Me, you and Angie."

Shaking his head, Jacob protested. "We're leaving on holiday in the morning! How do you expect us to get back before then?"

It was Peter who jumped in. "Neverland time always makes sure that those who leave always get back home when they need to." Seeing Jacob's doubts he added, "I can't explain it, but it's always worked whenever I've brought someone back."

Not wanting to wait for her brother to understand, Moira started to head for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jacob almost sounded afraid to be left alone with the boy and the fairy.

"To get Angie up."

"What if someone comes to the rooms and sees we've gone?" He asked.

"I will leave a note!" She hissed before disappearing down the hall.

Finding Angie sprawled out on the end of the bed, Moira debated how to go about waking her. Their mother always complained that out of all of them Angie was the child who gave her the most trouble in the mornings. It took her so long to wake up but once she was awake she was off like a rocket. She knelt next to bed to be at Angie's level.

She shook her shoulder, "Angie, wake up. Come on sissy." The girl made a soft noise and turned onto her stomach. Moira got onto bed and straddled Angie's back, whispering to her to try and coax her up more. "Time to get up, we've got to go."

"To the farm?" A muffled voice arose from the blanket.

"No," Moira wrapped her arms underneath Angie's torso, lifting her up off the bed. Angie moaned in protest but settled once she was turned around so she could clutch onto Moira. "Peter Pan's in our room and he's gonna take us away to Neverland. Won't that be fun?"

Eyes still closed and laying her head on Moira's shoulder, Angie nodded. "Mm-hm."

Once back in their bedroom, Moira disentangled Angie off her hip and made her stand up on the floor. Angie rubbed sleep out of her eyes before looking upon Peter.

"Hi," Angie said softly, not out of admiration but from recovering sleepiness. She also offered a small wave.

Peter grinned, "Hello." Tink appeared from behind him, herself curious and wary at the appearance of another human girl.

At the sight of Tink, Angie's face lit up and a grin spread across her face, "Tinkerbelle!" She exclaimed, approaching the fairy with her arms raised, "Pretty."

Much to everyone's surprise, Tink flew to the girl and let her hold her. Angie giggled with uttermost delight at holding a fairy, and Tink was just glad that she found a female too young to get between her and Peter. She gave Angie's nose a quick kiss.

Moira broke the silence, "Should we bring anything in particular?"

Peter shrugged, "Just anything you can't live without for a while. But remember you have to fly with it so keep it light."

Moira nodded, "Did you hear that, Angie?" Waiting for Angie to look at her she warned, "Keep it light because I'm not going to carry it when you get tired."

Tink flew off as Angie nodded. The little girl went about looking for anything she wanted to bring, Muffy being the first thing she picked up.

"Go get whatever you need Jacob," Moira said as she ripped out a piece of paper from her school notebook. She had just finished writing a note when Jacob grabbed it out of her hand to read it.

"Seriously?" He began to read it aloud, "'W_e've gone off to Neverland, be back before morning. No need to worry. XOXOXO'._ You really think Mum and Dad won't freak out anyway if they find out we've gone?"

Grabbing the paper back, she folded it and put it on her desk, writing '_To Mum and Dad'_ on the top side. "It's better than nothing, now get whatever you want to bring." She looked over to Angie, "And put some shoes on."

Seeing that his sisters would not be persuaded to stay, Jacob saw no way out of it. Rolling his eyes he said, "Fine," before walking out the door to go get his stuff.

Moira put on her dullest pair of sneakers, while trying her laces she looked up Peter. "I know it's an island, but is it ever cold?"

"Only on certain parts of the island. Like at the top of the mountains or the north side, it gets quite cold there," Peter said.

"Angie, bring me your bag so I can put something warm in it," she told the girl, just realizing that Angie really couldn't pack for herself. "Why only the north side?"

Peter took a seat on the bed, watching her pull out a small rump sack from her closet. "It's spring, summer, fall and winter on all different parts of the island. If you want the lushest flowers you go west side near Mermaid's Lagoon. If you want to jump in the best fallen leaves then you go to the east near the Indian camp. When you want to play all day in the sunshine of summer you stay near the center of the island where our home lies."

"And what of the south?" Moira asked, noting it had been left out.

Peter stood straight up on the bed, his stance straight and his hand hovering above his holster on instinct. "That be where the pirates dwell in Cannibal Cove. Try not to go there unless prepared to do battle with buccaneers, because the beach in the cove is visible to the Jolly Roger and within cannon distance."

Jacob had returned with a small book bag, catching the end of Peter's warnings of the pirates. Moira asked him if he wanted to bring something warm and said that his long sleeved night shirt was enough. He had already put on a pair of sneakers.

"What did you pack anyway?" She asked. It prompted him to bring out one of the only items present in the bag, his ukulele. Moira stared at it, "Really?" She asked flatly.

"What? I can't fit my guitar and I can't live without my music," He explained. "Same reason you're bringing your sketchpad."

Moira had finally finished packing her rump sack, the pad going in last, and was now finishing helping Angie. She asked Moira if she would fix her hair up but she said she would after they finished flying, as the wind would probably ruin whatever she would do. She made sure to pack Angie's hair ties and a small brush. "That everything you want?" A nod from Angie. "Alright, than let's get going."

Jacob and Angie were led to Peter, who was hosting Tinkerbelle on his shoulder. "Do your stuff Tink."

The fairy flew over both children, absolutely coating them dust. Angie giggled as if it tickled while Jacob seemed to unconsciously be shrugging it off. Peter told them to think of a happy thought and much to everyone's surprise it was Jacob who was the first to fly. It startled him as much as everyone else and he almost fell right back down before he recovered.

"What was your happy thought?" Asked Moira, who had taken flight again and was floating near Jacob.

He looked at her sideways, as if embarrassed. "It was the lyrics that song by Herman's Hermits, 'I'm into Something Good'. It's one of my favorites, it just—I don't know—always makes me feel better on a bad day."

As Moira considered him, she didn't see Peter pick up Angie under her arms to give her a boost. "Ready Angie? One—two—three!" And he tossed her up in the air where she continued to go until she found herself sitting on the ceiling.

Jacob cracked a smile as Angie waved to him upside down. Turning to Moira he gently took her hand, and when she looked at him he asked softly, "This is really happening, isn't it? We're really about to fly to Neverland?"

She squeezed his hand and grinned, nodding. Peter took his place at the open window and beckoned the siblings over, having heard what Jacob asked. "You bet we are. Are you ready for adventure beyond imagination?"

Unable to contain her excitement, Moira grinned and exclaimed, "Yes!"

He took Moira's hand, who in turn took Jacob's and who dragged Angie off the ceiling. Moira looked into Peter's eyes, the deep pools that drew her in and twinkled like the very stars they followed as they flew out the window. The little birds sailed gaily through the sky toward the second star to the right and straight on until morning.

* * *

><p><strong>I want to thank everyone who's put this story on their alert or favorite list. It sounds silly but it is such an honor that people want to read my story this much. I'm sorry it took this long but I was dealing with the worst case of writers block and I so desperately wanted to get these children out that damn window and on their way to Neverland by the end of this chapter. I'm planning for the next chapter to open directly in Neverland, but maybe not from the POV people assume always assume would introduce Neverland. It's just a thought and might not happen, but it's something to keep you on your toes until the next chapter arrives. Thank you everyone, safe flight :)<strong>


	6. You're Not Janie!

**CHAPTER SIX: YOU'RE NOT JANIE?**

The captain was not happy. And because of this Smee was not happy. And because he was in charge of boosting the crew to do their duty, the crew wasn't happy. So maybe having a break from the ship to supervise supply replenishment would do him and every one a bit of good. The captain hardly left the ship unless something pressing required him as a witness, but Smee often found his captain gazing at the island with the eyes of a hawk.

A hawk searching for prey.

The island had taken a stillness to it, one felt only by those who had breathed its air and lived its adventure for countless eons. It was the island going into a sort of hibernation when its golden child was away. Pan had left the island some days before, a rare occurrence but not unheard of, and now the island had come into full bloom again.

Smee often noted that the captain was always on his highest alert the days following Pan returning, as if the island going into rest rejuvenated him as well. The men were ordered to keep sharper watch and double the scouting parties to bring back word on the boy. Unfortunately it wasn't lack of news on the boy that was frustrating the captain to no end, it was the overflowing and contradictory reports on who may have come back with him that were causing his captain to develop an aneurism.

Recently, a girl had supposedly been spotted on the island by scouts sent for random tasks. It warmed Smee to know end when it intrigued the captain (it was always better when Hook was occupied) and had asked the crew member to describe her so more could be on the lookout.

Hook was not pleased, and very confused by what he'd been told. The crew member, Charles Turely, had described a little girl no older than a toddler, wearing a yellow frock playing with the smaller boys near the lagoon. Why would Pan bring back a mother who was hardly at an age to take care of herself, never mind an entire gaggle of boys? Hook was so close to dismissing the member from his sight and almost on the verge of whipping him for pure stupidity when another pirate, Robert Mullins, approached him with another sighting of a girl-child

Being the ship's pilot, Hook was more inclined to take his word over Turley's, until Mullins said the girl was close to Pan's size and range, wearing what resembled a white pinafore with hair down to her back. Smee had heard the captain mutter to himself, "Definitely not our Jane."

Both Smee and Hook highly doubted Jane would ever return to Neverland.

Hook had interrogated both men heatedly, waiting for one to admit that he'd made a mistake so he could determine who this mystery female was. But neither would back down, both dead set on what they had seen. Over the next couple of days more sightings of one very tiny girl and one of expected mothering age were brought in and his captain found himself stunned.

Could there for the first time really be two girls living with the lost boys?

That's why Smee found himself glad that the captain had let him go with that days replenishing party. With Hook being shorter tempered than usual, Smee thought a good couple of hours off the ship would help him cool off before he decided to take it out on the bo'sun.

The men had filled and loaded barrels of fresh water onto the longboat before deciding to gather some lumber for repairs and carpentry work for Alf Mason. Not really cut out for the chopping of wood, Smee found himself supervising Billy Jukes and Noodler as they hacked away at several small tree trunks that would fit in the longboat. Over the constant 'thack' of their axes making contact with the trunk, Smee's ears tickled when they picked up a faint sound.

Seeing that the other two hadn't noticed anything, he thought he'd ignore it. But after a few moments he could have sworn he kept hearing an unnatural sound over the men, one that his instincts told him to investigate. He barked at the men that he was going to scout ahead for redskins, and he doubted they even looked up as he stalked away further into the woods.

The more inland Smee ventured, the tamer the terrain became. The vines weren't as thick and the ground became less soft the further away he got from the beach. The trees were spaced farther apart and grew more varieties of flowers and eventually fruit trees dominated his sense of sight and smell.

The desire for sweet fruits and rest called to Smee, and he found himself plucking a large red apple off a branch. Producing his knife he began to peel parts of the skin off before he could cut away a bigger chunk, resting it on his knife and using the knife to scoop it into his mouth.

Resting against the tree for a few minutes, Smee greedily munched away until only the core was left. He had thankfully just turned his knife away from him when he stumbled over something previously hidden by the large upraised root. Catching himself against the tree, Smee felt his breathe stop as his eyes befell a basket filled halfway with fruit. Blinking to make sure the land sickness hadn't gotten to him, Smee raised his eyes to survey the area.

Someone was nearby and gathering food. Smee doubted by the spotty craftsmanship of the basket that it was redskins, so his only conclusion was lost boys. The corner of Smee's lip curled into a smile, the thought of capturing one of the boys so hated by the captain and bringing him back to be 'questioned' would surely cure the captain of his terrible mood.

He backed away into the trees as he heard someone approaching. His hand was at the ready to wield out Johnny Corkscrew when necessary.

He heard whoever it was before he saw them appear from the bushes across the way, light singing reaching his ears as he looked to size up his victim.

His mouth dropped so that he was afraid it would hit the grass. _"Keel hall me for a starfish. It can't be!"_

* * *

><p>"Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, Zip-a-dee-a," Angie sang from atop Moira's shoulder, "My oh my, what a wonderful day."<p>

Moira joined in, "Plenty of sunshine heading my way. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah," she lifted Angie off her shoulders, and settled her on the ground, "Zip-a-dee-a."

A couple of banana's fell from Angie's arms and she bent to pick them up. She had insisted on helping get the best one's from the taller branch, which required Moira to hold her up on her shoulders to get tall enough to reach. Moira rolled her head back to try and crack her shoulders. "You're getting too big for that you know, enjoy it while you can."

Angie shrugged, "If you don't do it I can get Peter to."

She didn't mean it as a threat, merely as an observation that she now had oodles of options where it came to playmates and ponies. Moira smiled, "You like Peter, don't you?"

Angie nodded, "Uh-huh, he and Nibs give me pony rides." Angie came over to where Moira had sat herself by the base of an apple tree. Moira unpeeled a banana and broke it in half, giving one piece to Angie.

"So you like it here? You're having fun?" Moira asked. Angie nodded, unable to answer with her mouth full of banana; they were her favorite.

Moira leant her head against the tree, enjoying the surrounding she had started to become equated to the last few days. She couldn't get over how warm it was, and chuckled at the thought that it was winter back in London. She couldn't remember the last time she had sat back and enjoyed the sun on her face. The way the light came down through the trees lit up the island in a way it never did on the mainland, making everything seem so much more alive and vibrant. She sometimes wondered if the sun shining over Neverland was the same one that woke her up through the window of her bedroom…..or should she say her old bedroom. If and when they decided to leave, this was their home now.

If she could have changed anything about their arrival it would have been that first meeting with the lost boys. Needless to say it had been a bit awkward. Touching ground for what felt like an endless night of flying, Peter had led them to the rotting base of an old tree trunk smack dap in the middle of the forest. Motioning for them to look inside, they didn't know what they were supposed to be looking for until their eyes started to adjust to the early morning rays. What at first looked like the bottom of the trunk revealed a slanted floor leading deeper into the earth.

"_It's a slide, goes all the way down to the underground house," Peter explained, leaning against the trunk. "We have a bunch of different ways of getting inside, but we like to us this one 'cause it's more fun." He flew over the opening and cupped his hands over his mouth, sticking his head inside he bellowed, "Wakey, wakey everyone. I've brought you a surprise!"_

_Peter removed his head and gave Moira a cocky smile, "That should give them incentive to get out of bed." He proceeded to throw a leg over the trunk. "I'll go first just so they don't freak out that a stranger's here. See you inside." With that he disappeared inside._

_Moira placed Angie into Jacob's lap as he took place ready to submerge. When they disappeared below she took her place to follow. She expected a quick drop before hitting the bottom, but instead found to her utter delight that the slide coiled like a serpent. It was darker underground; Moira couldn't see how far she actually slid down until she finally came to a stop just behind Jacob and Angie. They sat staring at the frenzy before them._

_The slide had deposited them into a large room which seemed to serve as a common area for the boys, who were scrambling from every nook and cranny to gather around the siblings: from tunnels, cupboards, even a hole in the ceiling! Moira stopped counting at twelve boys when she realized that more were on the way and they weren't staying still enough._

_It was when several boys stopped mid sprint in her direction that she knew something had thrown them off. Their foreheads creased in confusion as they stared at her, almost accusing her of trespassing. One boy nudged the other one to seek confirmation that he was seeing the same thing. Moira wasn't sure what kind of welcome to expect but_

_If Peter noticed he didn't show it. "All right you lot, gather around. We'll call attention after introductions. This is Jacob and Angie," he indicated the two quivering masses of jelly to the right. Angie had taken to burying her head into Jacob's shirt, only taking occasional peeks. The boy himself seemed to wonder where the feeling in his legs had gone and hoped that he was standing straight. Peter put a hand on Moira's shoulder, "And this is—"_

"_Is she here yet? Wait, don't start without me…" came a voice attached to a boy barreling from one of the tunnels, clutching what looked like a banner trailing behind him. He was one of the older boys, compared the ones who looked Angie's age, and quickly took a place in line. Without looking up he lifted the banner up and made a smaller boy hold up one end. When he looked up he was out of breathe and grinning, "Welcome back…."_

_His face froze and the smile melting off his face seemed to reflect his heart breaking. He blinked several times before finding his voice._

"_You're not Janie." He stated._

_Suddenly it all made sense; the boys were expecting her mother, not __**a**__ mother. Peter had left telling them he was coming back with Jane and instead brought her. Moira, for the first time since flying out the window, started regretting her decision. What if they didn't want her? She glanced at the banner that read WELCOME BACK JANIE in large painted letters, and she felt her heart sink into her chest._

_Peter tightened his hand on her shoulder before continuing. "No Nibs, she's not. This is Jane's daughter, Moira, and she's gonna be our new mother and take care of us. Jacob and Angie are her brother and sister so they're one of us now." Peter then stood stiff straight and raised his hand in a salute. "Attention!"_

_All the boys suddenly stood at attention and mirrored Peter in salute. They started barking out their names from the tallest to smallest, making Moira wish she had started writing them down._

"_Slightly"—"Crash"—"Nibs"—"Tin Tin"—"No Nap"—"Zipper"—"The Twins"—"Fop Top"—"Don't Ask"—"Curly"—"Thud Butt"—"Question Mark"—"Latchboy"—"Book"—"Sprout"—"Taz"—"Wheezus"—"Sunny"—"Too Small"_

_The boys waited until everyone had finished before relaxing their stance. Moira suddenly felt all eyes on her as Peter and the boys turned to look at her, waiting for her to say something. Moira figured nothing worked better at making a good impression than flattery._

"_Uh—hello everyone," She cracked. "It's very nice to meet you. Mum mentioned some of you when she would tell us stories; she always said good things about you guys." It turns out she didn't have to stretch the truth at all, remembering the smile on her mother's face whenever she recounted her times with the boys._

_Some of them brightened up, the few who had known Jane were already getting over the shock of seeing Moira. Some of them approached to introduce themselves to the siblings personally, asking if Jane really did put them in stories. Moira laughed when Curly shook her hand and said, "I'm Curly, and I don't know of Jane ever mentioned it—but I'm hilarious."_

_But it was the youngest boys that melted Moira's heart. Four of the smallest boys approached Moira, clutching a variety of wild flowers that had seen better days and less-sticky fingers. The one called Too Small, so named for his lack of stature, was the first to approach her. "For you Moira-Lady, we have picked you these flowers. Thank you for coming to be our mother."_

_His greeting was laced with practice, and if there was a mirror in the underground house she was sure he had repeated it to himself over and over to make sure he would say it right. If Mr. Barrie had in any way been factual about the first encounter Gram had with the lost boys after they shot her down, Moira felt no need to doubt that the boys were hard set on trying to make good impressions for anyone offering to be their mother._

_She smiled fondly at the boys, "Have you boys ever had a mother before?" All but one shook their head. This boy was the opposite of Too Small in appearance: instead of an ebony mop of curls, this little one was a golden lion cub. "What's your name?"_

"_Sunny!" He piped up. How fitting. "I remember Janie and Danny. He and I used fly kites together."_

_She'd almost forgotten that her uncle had come here as a small boy. If he retained in any actual memory of Neverland he never hinted at it, at least not to her. Looking over at Jacob, Moira saw that he had gotten over his shell shock and was now showing to off his ukulele to some of the others. Angie stood next to him but wasn't trying to engage any of the boys to speak to her._

_Motioning the little boys close to her she took all but one flower stem from each of them. "Could you take those to Angie over there? It seems very unfair that I have such pretty flowers and she has none."_

_They nodded and went over to Angie, who didn't recoil away but looked at them warily. They held out the four flowers to her, and she shyly took them. Moira thought it funny that her bubbly sister was trying to hold back the smile she could see trying to escape, especially when one of the boys (Wheezus, if she remembered correctly) asked her about Muffy._

_Eventually she met all of them face to face. Her apprehension about not being wanted disappeared for the time being when Peter gave a triumphant crow. "Our family is complete, and as the mother we humbly ask you Moira how you think we should begin the day, your first day in Neverland."_

_Moira could only think of one way._

_She shrugged, "Breakfast?"_

Since that morning, Moira had put most of her energy to cleaning the underground house, or as much of it as she could. The boys had shown her this fruit tree orchard the other day and thought it would be good to start putting fresh fruit out once in a while for the boys to eat. Once she would get back to the house she planned on putting the basket in the middle of the table they made out of the Never tree that insisted on growing in the middle of the room.

Moira reached over and began peeling a clemintine. "Hey sissy, do you think I'm doing alright? You know—being the new mother?"

Angie had moved on to a string of cherries at this point, "Uh-huh."

"No really," Moira wanted a serious answer, and her tone reflected it. "Like, am I good at taking care of you at least? Most of the boys don't know any better but you do, so out with it."

"I like being your daughter, Moira" Angie lips were stained red at this point.

Laughing, Moira said, "You're not my daughter, you're my sister." She stopped Angie from wiping her red stained finger tips on Moira's nightgown. "My sweet, loving and annoying little sister."

"Are the other boys my new brothers now?" Angie asked.

"They'll protect you like brothers, but only Jacob's your real brother." She added, "All of us: Peter, the boys, Jacob…we're a family here and we're going to have to take care of each other, and I do that as the mother."

Angie paused. "Then what does that make me if I'm not your daughter?"

Moira blinked, lost for words at the moment. She didn't want to confuse her anymore with the family dynamics they had glued together since arriving. Angie understood that a mother looked after her children, but when the mother was your sister did that mean you were no longer siblings? Moira wanted to make it clear once and for all that she should look upon Moira as her big sister and nothing else.

"You're a lost girl," she finally answered.

The little girl considered this. "Is it good to be a lost girl?" She enquired.

"Mum was a lost girl, the first one in fact. It's a great honor to be one; you're only the second girl in the entire world to ever be one." Moira explained with pride in her voice.

Angie looked at her with wide eyes. Moira thought it would be her relishing in her position amongst the boys, but her next question threw Moira off completely. "Mummy was a lost girl?"

Moira stared, waiting for Angie to laugh and say 'Got yah good' but her continuing wait for an answer showed Moira that Angie had forgotten. How could that be? She remembered Angie begging their mother for Lost Girl stories that always portrayed her as the heroin. She answered slowly, "Yes, she was."

Angie shrugged and popped the last cherry into her mouth. Moira normally never worried about the strange questions Angie would think up, but something about the lost girl question disturbed her. But she didn't want to fret and make a big deal out of it if she didn't need to, but she told herself to keep a lookout if Angie forgot anything else obvious about home.

"Come on, let's get this stuff back to the hideout. Maybe we can go swimming later if we hurry."

Not needing any more incentive to get up, Angie watched Moira walk towards the basket and deposit the rest of the banana's inside. She had just hauled the basket up to her hip when something caught her eye.

"Angie, did you eat an apple earlier?"

* * *

><p>Less than six feet away and crouching down in the bushes, Smee cursed himself for forgetting about the apple core he dropped when he stumbled. He had originally planned to snatch at least one of the girls to take back to the ship, but changed his mind when he heard the older one say they were going back to their hideout.<p>

Why force an answer out one when he could follow all the little birds to their nest. The captain would take great joy in planning every last detail when it came down to trapping the cullies in the very place they felt the most safe. But now he had gone and messed it up by leaving the apple out for her to find.

He watched her pick it up and consider it, turning it over as if it would tell her where it came from, she looked up and for a moment he thought her eyes made contract with his. "Is anyone out here? Thud, is that you?" She shouted.

Waiting for an answer that would never come, she shrugged and finally threw the apple over Smee's crouched body and farther into the forest. She walked with the basket towards the little girl and took her hand before beginning their trek back home. Smee let out a shaky breathe of relief that he had not been discovered.

"Mr. Smee, what you doing?" Smee almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice of Billy Jukes behind him. Jukes was one of the youngest crew members, still barely able to grow a beard proper and ached for the day he could shave. Noodler came behind him, straightening his hat with the hands God for someone reason had chosen to fix on backwards.

He motioned for the men to be quiet and indicated in the direction the girls went. Both men caught a glance just as the children turned the corner of a tree. Both understood and waited for Smee to stand back up.

"What's the plan?"

"The lasses are heading back to Pan's hideout. We're gonna follow 'em and see where they go and report the location back to the captain, understand?" Smee explained.

Both nodded, abet disappointed that there would be no blood spilt at this hour. Slowly the pirates crept down the path the girls had gone, trying to keep at least twenty yards between them to avoid being heard. For 10 minutes the girls walked, still hand in hand with the older one carrying the basket at her hip. They stopped only once when the oldest one knelt down to tie the little girl's shoe. The big girl, Moira if Smee heard correctly, pushed her hair behind her ears and he saw that they were pierced with matching gold studs. The only girls he'd seen that young and pierced were either from the Indies or in a gypsy clan that the crew had come across before arriving Neverland.

All serenity came to abrupt halt when Moira shot up like a pistol. Not even pausing, she grabbed her sister by the hand and shot off the path, leaving the basket of fruit. She had made them.

Smee cursed under his breath and ordered the men after them. No need to be quiet anymore they took off after the girls, yelling threats to try and scare them into slowing down.

Moira had never felt her adrenaline pump her legs this hard. After not getting a response from any boys after yelling into the forest, she kept a sharp ear out for anything and anyone who could be nearby. It was possible the apple was from hours, even days ago and all this worrying would be for nothing. After they'd turned the corner, she'd heard it. A low, very adult voice, whispering from the spot she picked up her basket.

She had squeezed Angie's hand, causing her to look up in question. Moira whispered, trying to keep her voice low and eyes ahead, that they were going to walk a different way home and that Angie should just go along with it. Angie frowned but nodded.

She waited until they'd walked for a while, leading whoever was behind them away from their intended destination. If they got away, and Moira was leaning very hard on that 'if', she did not want them to have an inkling of where the hideout was. Knowing that soon it be too risky to go any farther and chance that they might not be able to make a good run for it back to the underground house afterward, Moira crouched down.

Pretending to casually tie Angie's shoe she whispered, "When I stand back up we're going to run in the direction behind me. If we get separated I want you to keep running or hide, and then get back to the underground house. Blink if you understand, don't nod."

Angie closed her eyes for a good ten seconds before opening them, her equivalent of a non-obvious blink. Taking Angie's hand once again, she sucked in the biggest breathe she'd ever taken in her life before jumping up and running, dragging Angie behind her.

They'd only made a few yards when they heard them, bounding behind them when they saw what she'd done. She spared a quick glance behind her only to immediately whip her head back around, running with a new sense of urgency. Three pirates were behind them, and it didn't take a genius to see they were gaining. If she didn't have Angie she probably would be able to make it, but a five-year-old could never outrun these men.

They had to keep running until they could hide.

Pulling Angie this way and that, Moira ducked between trees and hopped over fallen trunks. But instead of the forest getting thicker the open spaces just got more prominent, spelling out disaster once the girls wouldn't be able to run anymore. The trees were beginning to be replaced by moss and tall grass, the ground getting wetter and hindering their strides. She could hear the pirates shouting not far behind them, threatening them if they didn't stop they would get worse. Angie was beginning to slow but Moira tugged her almost viciously further. "Don't stop," Moira panted, "Or they'll catch us!"

But soon Moira had no choice but to stop when the wet ground became nothing but mud and water. Ahead, the girls could see nothing but a mile of wetlands. The water was shallow, looking only two feet deep, but was murky and black. Tall grass and weeds protruded in clumps from the water and from mud banks that popped up like islands.

"What do we do now?" Angie asked fearfully.

"They headed this way, Hurry!" Moira heard one of them yell from the edge of the forest.

Knowing that Angie would protest, Moira picked her up and ran as well as she could through the mud and water. She could feel her feet sinking deeper into the mud with the added weight, until she was almost up to her knees. She hobbled further and further into the marsh until she was surrounded by the tall grass, finally depositing Angie on the driest part she could find before climbing up herself, hoping that the suction cup sound of pulling her legs out the mud would not be heard. She sat down on her knees, pulled Angie close, and waited.

Smee cursed when the tracks in the mud led straight into the marsh, and once reaching the water proved useless in tailing the girls. In front of him, Noodler and Jukes had stopped to catch their breath.

"Shall we after them, Smee?"

He nodded, "Aye, but keep your wits about you. I doubt we could be the most dangerous things in this marsh."

They brandished their swords and slowly stepped into shallow waters of the bog. The men went off in separate directions to cover more ground; once in a while they thrust the end of their swords into the tall grass, sometimes parting it and other times hacking it clear off by the yard.

Hearing the men walk into the water, Moira's eyes closed when threat of tears became all too great. There was no way she and Angie could run without drawing attention by splashing in the water or leaving an open trail in the tall grass. They were trapped.

She moved to wipe under her nose when it threatened to leak, and her sense of smell was assaulted by the scent of dirt and rot. Her hands had sunk into the ground and were covered in mud….so much that she couldn't tell where they were.

Not a millisecond had passed between that notion and her next action. Scooping as much mud as she could into her hand she began covering herself in it: face, hair, arms, and nightdress. Angie looked up at her in shock, but before she could ask what she was doing Moira was onto her next. She had to be shushed several times because she didn't want to get so dirty, but she couldn't see that Moira wasn't enjoying this anymore than she was.

Once they were completely covered from head to toe in mud, Moira had them both lie down flat on their stomachs. The indent from their weight allowed them to sink deep enough to assume the identities of clumps of Earth. All they could do now was wait and listen, for what they didn't know.

"You little wenches, where'd ya go?" Jukes shouted as he cut down a row of reeds. He was not enjoying this game of chase.

Smee swung his blade the same way he did in battle, stabbing it into the reeds and wiggling it like he would inside a wound, "Come out come out wherever you are." He called almost tenderly. "We're not going to hurt you; we just want to escort you back to the ship."

"Where the captain will hurt you," Noodler snickered to himself. Moira heard him however, and was able to find Angie's hand a squeeze it.

After five more minutes of crawling knee deep in mud, Smee was forced to admit the girls could have made it farther into the marsh or even to the dry bank on the other side at this point. He had let them get away because of his mistake… that no one knew about because Noodler and Jukes hadn't seen him drop the apple that tipped off the girl. At least he could bring his captain the confirmation that there were in fact two girls on the island, and everything he had overheard when the girls talked. If he was putting all these bouts of information together he had no idea what the captain would do with it. That thought pleased him.

"Come on you dogs, this is now a fool's errand. Back to the ship," he motioned for them to begin heading back to the dry bank. Smee waited until they were ahead of him and he let it out, the bout of dark anger he rarely ever let escape for his own health (and those of other). Quick as lightening he sliced an entire row of tall grass as far as his arm was able to lash out, letting out a low growl few men had lived to tell about before he stalked off.

Few men and now two little girls, who were less than two feet away from Smee when he lashed out in frustration at the reeds that now lay scattered over their camouflaged bodies. Moira had stopped breathing when Smee's feet had come so close, knowing that if he took one step to the side he would have made them and they would have been dragged to the ship. Hours could have passed before Moira dared move her head to look up, making sure the marsh was vacant before struggling out of the mud.

"Come on, we've got to get back to the house," she said as she struggled to pull Angie up. The mud was beginning to dry and it cracked before flaking off where their elbows and knees bent. The wind picked up and Moira felt the chill creep her spin but didn't react to it, her mind too numb from escaping abduction. When a hissing snake stood in their path, Moira simply kicked it out of the way while Angie gawked.

"Were those pirates, Moira?"

"Yes," Moira replied absently. She was trying to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

"Why did they chase us?"

"Because they're bad men and want to hurt us," Moira said tersely, but realized she had to get across to Angie how much danger they were just in. "We're friends with Peter and Hook hates Peter. Because we're his friends Hook will hurt us and use us to try and capture him, so whenever you see a pirate you run and hide, you got that?"

Angie cast her eyes downward and mumbled, "Yes."

After a half hour they made it into the familiar patch of grove that Peter led them to after their journey from London, where the tree trunk entrance lay. The sun was behind Blow-Your-Top Mountain and the sky had begun to look orange. To say the boys were surprised at their mud enshroud appearance was an understatement.

Some of them had wondered why they weren't invited to the mud fight, but those who were familiar with girls and their preference for hygiene knew that something had happened. Moira didn't answer right away when they asked what happened, and instead told them to fetch the washtub. The boys played by their own watch and came home only when they felt like it, but she could count on them to begin filing in after the sun set. Only the Twins, Thud Butt, Curly, Fop Top, Wheezus, and Slightly were home.

"We were chased by pirates," Moira began her tale when the Twins returned with the tub (which was supposedly 'lost' until she came across it suspiciously hidden under a junk pile in a cupboard), regaling them on how they'd led them away from the secret trunk entrance and landed up in the marsh, where they'd covered themselves with mud that narrowly kept them from being discovered by Smee.

Peter arrived home just as Moira finished with, "…and we ran back here as quickly as we could". Adept at keeping to the shadows when listening to a story, she did not see him until she'd gone to pump water into the tub. She jumped out of her skin while he raised an eyebrow at her at her haggard appearance. Moira did not want to fathom what a sight she must be, the dark mud clinging to clothe and skin and matting her hair into clumps. He looked amused and opened his mouth to speak.

"What did you—?"

"Shut up!" She mumbled indignantly and began to fill the little tub with water. The pump connected to a stream, which was visible on the ceiling of one of the hallways and always sported a good trout or salmon to poke your finger at and say 'boo'.

She dragged the full tub over to the fireplace where the rest of the boys had accumulated, Peter following her. He saw Angie in a similar state and his curiosity grew.

While Moira undressed Angie and got her into the water, the boys regaled Peter on what Moira had told them. While he listened his lips thinned, the only way he knew to keep certain thoughts to himself while hiding his true unhappiness about the situation. While the boys thought it a great adventure, and part of him did as well, he hated that the pirates now had confirmation that he'd brought home a new mother.

He would have preferred if she could enjoy Neverland without having to worry about Hook. He hated the pirate yet loved taunting him, but he preferred the girls be left alone. Moira shouldn't be afraid all the time like Jane was.

"I wanna a bath too!" Wheezus yelled as he ran toward the tub. He got undressed and climbed in with Angie, who was getting water poured over her head from a jug. Wheezus's hair was shoulder length like Angie's and got longer when wet. While not the littlest of the 'smalls' as Moira called them, he was skinniest. He always breathed in deeply and through his mouth, saying he couldn't always breathe through his nose. Moira theorized it was either due to mild asthma or a broken nose that never got fixed. That or underdeveloped lungs from a premature birth.

She was just glad that he found his way to the Neverland where the air was nice and clean.

A stocky boy of about ten made his way over to help and Moira found herself smiling at Fop Top. He was peculiar boy who displayed an air of femininity with long blonde hair and pouty lips. Moira was sure that out of all of the boys he was the only one excited not that he'd gained a mother, but a gal pal. His voice was thick with a French accent, which she now heard asking if he could help wash Angie hair.

The more gentler of the boys, Moira let him handle Angie with ease, especially after she saw Fop the other night find a ribbon and do up Angie's hair with it.

She'd washed the mud off Angie's yellow nightdress as best she could and hung it by the fire to dry. Fop asked, "You are next, mademoiselle? Shall I fetch zee brush and we can clean your hair?" Oh yes, Fop Top was definitely one of her favorites.

Tink certainly was not. Moira, clad only in her undershirt and drawers, had just cleaned her dress and hung it up to dry when she felt something hit her lower back with enough force that her knees hit the tub's edge, toppling her over the side and into the water. She gripped the sides of the tub and pulled her head from under the water, spitting out and coughing.

She opened her eyes to find Tink standing on the tub rim, holding her sides and laughing. Moira glared at her, "Not very funny, Tink." For something the size of a fist, this fairy possessed strength that astounded Moira.

"I thought it was," she laughed cruelly once more before flying away, avoiding the drops of water Moira flicked at her. Since arriving in Neverland Moira had noticed that she could understand Tink's speech almost completely. She didn't know if it was because she had grown used to her fairy bell language or that simply outside of Neverland she was unreadable.

All ill thoughts disappeared as Fop took Angie's brush to her hair and began gently kneading the mud out of it. Once in a while she would lean forward to dunk her face and wash it as best she could, difficult considering the tub was so small she had to bend her knees up. She would need to remember to find a stream, hopefully a very private one, where she could leisurely stretch out and take a bath.

Peter watched as she got out and joined Angie, who was wrapped in a blanket by the fire, to warm up. Hook would spoil all the fun now that he knew she was here, especially if Moira was right and it was Smee who spotted them. The bo'sun hardly left the captain's side long enough to blow his nose.

He moved towards the fire as more boys sat down in front of it, warming their hands. He sat down behind Moira and watched the fire dance off her damp hair, and idly let his thoughts wander on how soft it will look when dry. Moira turned her head, not to look at him, but to glare at Thud Butt when he asked if she would go back to collect the fruit she promised earlier. Thud soon found himself rubbing the back of his head after Moira lightly smacked it.

Peter smiled. Yes, he would keep Moira safe by any means necessary.

* * *

><p>Moira slammed her head down into the table, the 'thunk' it made resounding throughout the hideout, which was pretty empty at the moment.<p>

'_Of course it's empty_," she thought bitterly. _'It's the afternoon, it's sunny out, and everyone else is outside playing. That's where I should be!'_

For two days she had not been allowed out; or more that Peter had found a ways to keep her in. The morning after their encounter with the pirates, Peter prevented her from leaving by shoving a basket of sewing her way, saying that socks needed darning. Later it was vegetables that needed chopping for a stew. Then it was an underground game of hide n seek in which he never found her hiding under the big bed for over an hour. Now she was sitting rather pathetically at the table top supported by the never tree that insisted on growing in the middle of the living room. She hadn't moved from that spot since Peter had outright told her that she couldn't leave the house that day: no warning, no excuse, no explanation.

She was resting her head in her hands and glaring accusingly at an opened book. She had discovered a small book shelf that had been dug into the wall with several old and very worn out volumes packed into it. Some of them dated as far back to the 1920's, and she wondered if she should have brought her own books to add to the collection. She'd noticed several familiar names and messages written inside the flaps: Wendy, John, Danny, Jane, Michael, Happy Birthday, Happy Christmas, Congratulations.

There were storybooks, fairy tales, adventure and mild thrillers. Nothing too over a child's head. But she didn't want to go through the entire shelf the first few days she was here, so she constrained herself to _Alice in Wonderland_. All it was doing though was making her realize that even Alice was allowed to rummage through Wonderland, while Peter practically tackled her to keep her from leaving this morning.

She needed to escape the house without Peter knowing. She had a plan.

After midday many of the boys had returned to grab a bite or a sleep. Peter himself was home and chatting with Nibs and Slightly in the corner. Angie and some of the smalls were taking a nap wherever they had dropped, almost tripping her several times. Moira had chosen Curly, No Nap and Thud Butt to help her escape for the afternoon, considering them neutral territory and the least likely to incur Peter's anger if caught. They were waiting in the next room, waiting for the signal to play their part. Moira thought it as good a time as any.

She hated to use the smalls this way and hoped they would forgive her if they ever found out. She'd pocketed a sling shot earlier and produced it, along with several small stones. She eyed Taz, sleeping near Sunny and who happened to have a sling shot tucked under his arms. She chose Taz because he was the more temperamental of the smalls, always ready to shoot off and start a quarrel with the others. Pocketing the smallest pebbles, and making sure Peter was not looking, she took aim and shot at Taz's belly very carefully so not hurt him. She just wanted him to be annoyed.

It took five stones to jolt Taz awake, who was swatting away whenever a little pebble had struck him. Having enough he looked around pouting to see who was being mean to him and saw the stones that had struck him before letting his gaze wander to Sunny, lying not three feet away with a slingshot in his hands. Sure that he was feigning sleep, Taz jumped up and got on top of Sunny and grabbed the slingshot. Sunny jolted awake to find Taz straddling his back and hitting him over the head with the rubber band end of the slingshot, stinging him. "Stop it, Taz!" Moira winced at the pitiful yell, never the less she loaded the final stone and this time took aim across the room at Peter's back. She didn't feel as guilty when it hit its target.

Peter rubbed his back and turned around, seeing Moira at the table (pretending to read), and then at Taz and Sunny fighting over a slingshot. Sunny had managed to turn over and knock Taz off him and onto Too Small and Angie, who whined at being pelted by the child's weight. Taz grabbed Muffy and threw it at Sunny, "Maybe that'll show you!"

"Hey!" Angie yelled and tripped over Wheezus when she tried to retrieve her stuffed bunny. The room had become an explosion of high pitched yells and running children as Peter got up and attempted to pull them apart, but upon seeing the slingshot in Taz's hand turned at him and accused, "Did you shoot me?"

While arguing with the small child, amidst all the little fights that had broken out, Peter did not notice Moira slip away and walk down the hallway under the pond. She waved at Curly, Thud Butt and No Nap from their little dugout and they began following her. Tink was next.

The fairy's apartment was just at the end of the hall and plumb next to an exit door. Tink had caught on that Moira had been placed under a house arrest of sorts and was often tattling to Peter whenever seeing Moira trying to leave. The hallway became narrower as they approached the hollowed out grandfather clock Tink called home.

No Nap, a tall black boy sporting a beatnik cap, approached the tiny door and knocked. He was ready with what Moira had told him to say when the fairy opened the door, "Tink, Peter needs your help. It's chaos in there." He pointed to the commotion down the hall.

Moira saw Tink look alarmed at first, but when she saw Moira with the boys she grew suspicious. Moira however, was prepared for this. She crossed her arms and sneered, "I told you guys I could help Peter, we don't need _her_."

Tink narrowed her eyes and shoot forth out of her apartment, giving Moira a proper 'humpf' as she passed. Waiting until Tink was out of site, they quickly opened the small door that led to an opening going straight up. A rope ladder led the way, No Nap going first and urging Moira behind him so she would be out of site quicker. As they climbed up the tunnel, it got so dark that Moira could only assume Curly and Thud were behind her by the noises they made. She bumped into No Nap, not realizing he'd stopped, and the tunnel was suddenly flooded with light as he pushed on the ceiling. He crawled out into the world and lent Moira a hand up, she in turn helping Curly and Thud.

She squinted against the sunlight, taking in the forest around her. Thud closed the flap on the hole they'd climbed up, the top of it covered in grass and dirt. Upon closing the flap it became one with the Earth again and showed no signs that it was anything but a patch of grass, and she made a note to remember this location.

"Ah, to be free again," Moira flung out her arms to soak in the sun, which judging by it position showed it was late in the afternoon. She had only been underground for two days, but already she felt herself forgetting the sounds of the jungle and the humidity in the air. Grinning, she threw both arms over No Nap's and Thud Butt's shoulders and pulled them close, "Thank you guys so much."

Curly, who took no offense at being left out of the hug, stood in front of the lot. "No problem Moira-Bird. But we should head out if we wanna have any fun before Peter finds out you've left."

Moira sobered quickly, "Right. So where should we go?"

"Where you wanna go?" Thud asked.

Throwing her hand forward in a gestural manner, she exclaimed. "Anywhere!" She paused and decided to amend that. "Preferably somewhere we won't be found easily and I can explore. Peter will wise up soon and I'd like to have _some_ fun before he banishes me back underground. Is there anywhere like that—"

"DEAD MAN'S CAVE!"

Suddenly grabbed by three sets of hands, Moira found herself being propelled through the forest. They ran briskly, giggling at their cleverness at having pulled off their plan but nervous Peter would find them before they could have fun. Moira hoped Peter would not be a violent loser if, no when, he caught up to them.

It was not long before they arrived at a small beach overlooking protruding rocks and tide pools. Forming a peninsula of its own was a string of rocks that led to rather spacious grotto out on the water, and though it offered a straight path the boys chose to wallow through the shallow water or hop from rock to rock to get to the cave.

Once inside, Moira couldn't help but marvel at how large and open the cave was. Light shined through dozens of naturally formed openings in the walls to the point they resembled windows. A large opening in the roof of the grotto sent a particularly bright ray of light into the center of the cave, illuminating a mountain of sand that resembled a pedestal. Moira had a feeling that something of significance had been placed there at some point. Most of the ground inside the cave was composed of sand, some of it flooding with water from the ocean and forming tide pools. Moira smiled upon seeing some brightly colored fish swimming about in the shallow pools. "Wow," Moira sighed. "This place is totally gnarly."

"Cool word, what's it mean?" Curly piped.

"Amazing or cool. Just really awesome."

Watching as Curly considered the word before shrugging and taking off around the cave. She couldn't help but laugh as she heard him mumble his new word over and over, saying that this rock was gnarly or that shell was gnarly. Moira had noticed as soon as she arrived that Curly was the most talkative of the boys, always trying to tell jokes and always asking questions.

"Bet I make it to the top first," No Nap yelled as he ran towards the sand mountain. All of them took off, but Moira decided to let the boys fight over who would reign over the top. It was quite funny seeing the three of them climb over each other before No Nap rose victorious, raising his foot on top of Curly's back and leaning his head back to let out a mighty pirate yell, "Aaaaaaarg! I am victorious over you scurvy land lovers!"

Moira looked up from her crawling position up the small hill and sighed, "I've had quite enough pirates for a while thank you very much."

"Well they never get enough of us," Thud looked over his shoulder to speak to her. He was directly in front of her and just hardly involved in the tussle for the top. "But you'll see soon enough, especially since they know you're here now."

"What do you mean?" Moira asked.

Thud Butt shrugged, "I heard Peter talking after you and Angie had your bath. He was talking to Tink, peeved about something, saying that he knew he shouldn't have let you go out alone. That the pirates can't know you're here."

She rolled her eyes. "Peter has to stop blaming himself for that. And just what is so horrible about the pirates knowing I'm here. I mean, how did he expect to keep me a secret?"

Thud just shrugged. "I guess he doesn't want Hook to get you. The captain knows we would come for our mother if he put you in harm's way."

"In a heartbeat!" Curly declared with No Nap nodding enthusiastically next to him.

Moira's eyes softened as she listened to boys, ones whom she'd only known a few days but who had just declared they would fight for her at her darkest hour. "I don't want you boys to get hurt over me." She mumbled.

No Nap raised an eyebrow. "But that's what devoted son's do for their mothers, isn't it? I mean, I don't know much about being a son but I remember stories about mothers fighting for their children. It's only fair that the children fight for their mothers."

"Fair is fair," Curly agreed. "Even Peter insists we be fair in battle with pirates and Indians."

All ill feeling of hopelessness when it came to being a good mother began to vanish, and Moira found herself fighting to outright grin at the boys. She realized at that moment she didn't have to be perfect for them to like her because they themselves never had perfect mothers. _'For that matter, neither did I,"_ thought Moira. _'I think?"_

Her smile slowly receded as Moira tried to remember her mother's faults. Why wasn't her mother perfect? The more she tried to think about it she couldn't come up with an example or stir up some type of memory but she found that nothing specific came to mind. Had she been late to pick her up one day, or had she yelled at her for spilling something on the carpet? Did they even have a carpet?

Curly had taken notice to her frown and took it upon himself to make sure his new mother was happy. "What's wrong, are you sad?" Moira scrambled to say something before he quickly asked if she should like to hear a joke. "What did the snake give his wife before bed?" He waited for them to guess before blurting out, "A goodnight hiss!"

While she laughed, Moira noticed that the other boys didn't get it. "You know, like goodnight kiss?" She prompted.

Moira was shocked to learn that Thud and No Nap had no notion on what a goodnight kiss was. "But how do you know about them Curly?"

"Wendy would give them to us before we went to bed. Her and Peter called them thimbles though, at least that's what he called them when she would give him some." He seemed to giggle at the memory.

"I wasn't here for Wendy, and Jane never did that sort of stuff. She was only a lost girl, not a mother," Thud explained.

No Nap just shrugged, "Wasn't here for neither of em, you're my first one."

Moira thinned her lips, a thought coming to her. "Would you boys like me to do goodnight kisses when you go to bed from now on?"

At their eager nodding, she couldn't help but smile, even after Thud and No Nap asked how kisses worked. She gave Thud one on the forehead and No Nap one the cheek but stopped Curly when he tried to give her one on the mouth. "No, no, no. Only grown-ups and married people kiss each other on the lips." Curly's face fell out of not doing something right, and Moira felt bad about it. Knowing he loved to feel useful she asked, "I cannot recall how a hug works however, would you remind me Curly?"

She held her arms out and watched Curly break out into a grin, "That's not a hug, that's a squidge!" He laughed as he rushed into her arms with such a force that they toppled over and down the hill. Moira let out a joyful squeak as she fell backwards, and wondered briefly as she and Curly rolled downward why the word 'squidge' sounded familiar.

They landed hard on the soft sand, their laughter mingling with the boys on the hill until they echoed throughout the cave. Moira opened her eyes to see the sun raining down on them from the circular opening of the cave ceiling. Closing her eyes against the sun, she tried to catch her breathe while Curly kept laughing. It was only when a shadow passed over them that Moira opened her eyes to see a figure hovering above them.

Moira shot up straight as Peter descended upon them, his eyes not leaving hers as his boots hit the sand. He crossed his arms and turned his head to glare at the boys before looking back upon her. "And just what is this?"

She scrambled up with as much dignity as she could, preferring to receive his rage more at his level. "Just playing." She mumbled, looking down.

"After I told you to stay in the underground house!" Peter's voice was rising with every word.

She looked back up at him. "I have been there for days, I wanted to go outside."

But Peter wasn't having any of it. "I'm the leader and that means you have to do what I say. I gave you an order and you disobeyed me."

Her anxiety about Peter's anger was slowing receding to let her own bitterness creep in. "Why can't I go outside like the rest of the boys. Even Angie got to go outside the other day." It was true; Angie had left to go with some of the others yesterday afternoon. She primarily was going to stick with Sprout because he wanted to go catch butterflies. Moira had wanted to go with them but Peter had convinced her to play hide n seek underground, only now just realizing it was a clever ploy to keep her grounded.

"I won't have my orders questioned! How do you expect me to keep us all safe if nobody follows what I say? And you three," he turned his eyes to the boys, who at that moment were trying to make themselves invisible. "Back to the house, I'll deal with you later."

"Don't be mad at them, I made them help me," Moira jumped in. "I—uh—threatened them!"

Peter raised his eyebrow in disbelief, "With what?"

She hadn't thought that far ahead and paused. What could she actually threaten them with if she needed to? When she didn't say anything Curly once again took it upon himself to speak, "With thimbles!"

Moira groaned and brought a hand to her face, already feeling it redden from embarrassment. She didn't see Peter's reaction but heard him snap back at the boys, "Home. Now!"

Only taking her hand down when she felt the boys brush past her, she looked up at Peter who had an unreadable look upon his face. All the scenarios in which Moira imagined Peter would discover them involved her giving him an earful about how to properly treat your guests once they were in your home. Though she supposed that she wasn't really a guest anymore since she was officially brought into this Lord of the Flies family. In her mind he would see the error of his ways after this talk and would humbly apologize, or beg for forgiveness.

But this was reality and all words left her at that moment. So she did the next best thing she could think of to show Peter the error of his ways. She walked past him and out the cave, but veered sharply left and into the opposite direction of the underground house. She heard Peter sputter before he took air and came after her, flying next to her as she trudged off the beach and into the jungle "Where are you going? The house is in the other direction!"

"I know," she replied airily. "But I'm not going back to the house."

"But I said—"

She turned to look at him, still walking ahead. "I heard what you said, but I'm going to go exploring." She looked over her shoulder at him before she continued on into the jungle, "But feel to come along if you can."

She turned her head back before she could see the look on Peter's face, the terrain suddenly elevating and forcing her to use both her hands and feet to climb up. By the time she made it to the top Peter had used every excuse to make her turn around.

"Where are you going to go?" He demanded.

"I don't know, maybe to Mermaid's Lagoon?"

"The mermaids are sleeping now."

"That's fine. Then I'll go to Peg Leg point and go fish."

"You don't have a fishing pole!"

Moira let out a frustrated huff and swung her head to look at him, "Then I'll imagine a pole and maybe the fish will see it too!"

She suddenly halted when Peter grabbed her wrist, "Just stop—"

"No, you stop!" She yelled, wrenching her wrist away. "Stop ordering me about, stop treating me like a baby, and stop keeping me from having fun!" Peter had a stunned look on his face, not expecting her start shouting at him. Now that she had his attention, Moira needed to make him understand what was going on and what would need to change if she was to continue living with him. "You have kept me prisoner underground for days, and for what? Because pirates saw me and know I'm here?"

She saw she had struck a chord in him, but she was on a roll and needed to get this out. "So what? I heard Mr. Smee from a mile away and Angie and I got away. If this is what my life is going to be like being here than I might as well leave right now because this is not fun anymore. Is that what you want?"

She waited for Peter to answer, but he just stared at her for a few minutes before looking away and muttering, "No."

"Then tell me what's wrong." Moira was exasperated.

Peter let out a slow sigh before looking back up at her, his eyes showing a flash of vulnerability that she recognized from that night at Big Ben before he quickly hid it away again. "Hook will spoil everything."

Moira raised an eyebrow, egging him to continue. "When there's no mother things are different. We taunt each other, we sword fight and everything is always a good laugh and a good battle. The pirates live to fight us and we fight them to live. It's the best game in the world." He paused. "But when a girl is here and Hook knows it, then the rules change. We like having a mother to take care of us, to love us. We always have fun and consider each other a family, but with a mother we feel complete, like a piece of a puzzle we never knew was missing. Maybe that's why it hurts so much when Hook tries to use the mother against us."

A wave of déjà-vu hit Moira, reflecting a clearer mirror to what the boys had told her back in Dead Man's Cave. She hadn't considered that because of her position among the boys that it made her a greater target in Hook's quest for revenge.

"So he plays dirty?" Moira asked, remembering what Curly had said about Peter's insistence on fairness and thought it would help her see from his point of view.

He nodded, "The dirtiest."

She lowered her head in thought and walked over to a tree with low hanging branches. Taking a hold of a branch above her, she let her weight drop and put all of it on her arms so she dangled slightly. She looked to see Peter was not standing where she'd left him, but his face suddenly appeared next to hers. He was upside down, having flown to a higher branch to lock his legs upon it and hang upside down, his face level with hers.

"Well do you know how we should solve that problem?" Moira asked him, not meaning it as a question.

"Of course I do," Peter boasted, "But I'm sure you'd be better at explaining it."

Moira afforded herself a small smile at how Peter always tried to act like he knew what was going on. "We've got to fight fire with fire."

Upside down Peter just glared at her, "I'm not taking you to fight a pirate."

She brushed it off, "Of course not, that would be unfair to the pirate. But that actually brings up my point. I can't very well protect myself if I don't know this land, where everything is and where the safe and bad parts are," she paused to indicate their surroundings, "I haven't the slightest idea where we are now. If you were to up and leave do you think I could find my way back to the house before nightfall?"

"I'd never leave you behind," Peter said.

"I know—"

"No, I really mean it." He flipped back to his feet, the blood rushing from his face and returning to the rest of his body, "Your one of us now and I never abandon one of my crew. If you're in trouble or get captured I will always find you. I won't ever let anyone hurt you, especially Hook."

Moira smiled at him, humbled by his heroic heart. The thought of him coming to rescue her both reassured and annoyed her. Remembering the illustration of Hook in Gram's book and how it sent shivers of fear down her spine, added on her own mother's fear of him made her glad Peter was there. But at the same time she didn't want to be this helpless damsel in distress. While she was having trouble recalling it, she was sure her mother had always told her and Angie that they couldn't always wait around for someone to help them, that ultimately they would need to rely on themselves. Despite this, she smiled and dropped her arms.

"Thank you, Peter." She leaned in kissed his cheek before he could pull away.

And pull away he did, ducking out and putting his hand to his cheek, "Hey, knock that off!" But the playful tone he put on assured her that he really wasn't miffed about it, nor was he rubbing the kiss away.

"But I need you to show me how to find my way around Neverland. I need you to teach me what to do in order to keep myself—and others—safe. You know what I mean?" Moira asked. "No more locking me up."

"You'll just escape again if I do," Peter grinned.

"Darn right."

"You seem to be good at that," he complimented.

She beamed, "Thank you—" She was cut off when he suddenly launched at her and she found herself fighting him off with small and harmless swats. He meant to get a rise out of her, to try and see what her defenses would be like if faced with a surprise attack. But soon all seriousness was lost when he realized she wouldn't fight back like she had in the nursery, probably due to her not seeing him as a threat anymore. But he grinned as she began giggling uncontrollably whenever his fingers lightly touched her sides or the underside of her arms—she was ticklish.

"Oh, so I've found a weakness have I!" He teased as she began running away from him, and he chased after her, the entire time she shrieked whenever he caught her before she eventually had to collapse at the base of a tree to catch her breath. When he sat down beside she braced herself for another attack but it never came. She found herself dismayed when she returned the favor and found that he was hardly ticklish at all.

When they both caught their breath he turned to her, "Come on, I'll give you a proper tour." He grabbed her by the hand and began pulling her into the forest.

"Now?" Moira had begun to notice the sky turning orange; she couldn't even see the sun anymore.

He turned and gave her the cockiest smirk she'd ever seen, "Unless of course you'd rather go back underground."

"Don't you dare!" She snapped, urging him to begin the tour.

And give her a tour he did. He hardly took flight, letting her take in the landmarks that would stick out to her and serve as her guides. He showed her the tree that began as a single trunk and grew to separate into two solitary thick branches reaching for the sky, resembling a wishbone. Peter told her that if she looked through the center of the two branches that she was looking toward the west side of the island, where the Indian camp lay.

Blow-Your-Top Mountain was easy to spot once they reached a small clearing, but Peter said that he would take her there another time, that the mountain was an adventure in itself. Instead they walked to the east, where Moira knew the underground house was hidden. As the jungle became lush and greener they came upon a stream. Peter urged her to drink as it was fresh.

"This is Crocodile Creek. It comes from a water basin higher up the mountain, and trickles all the way down until it reaches the ocean," Peter explained, "Once you cross it you'll know you aren't far from the entrance I showed you the day you got here. But once you find the creek you should cross it or follow it upward, don't go down river."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because Crocodile Creek empties directly into Kidd's Cove, where Hook likes to keep his ship. Some of his crew often go to the creek to collect fresh water but don't usually wander too far upstream. But just in case, don't go that direction if you can help it."

When she saw that he meant for them to cross the shallow creek by foot she hesitated, "There aren't really crocodiles in the creek are there?"

"Not really," Peter shook his head.

"Then why call it Crocodile Creek?"

He shrugged, "Dunno. It's not Captain Kidd who runs the ship, yet Hook decided to call it Kidd's Cove. After a while the name just stuck I suppose, now we can't imagine calling it anything else." Kidd's Cove was the bay where _The Jolly Roger_ could always be found.

The more she thought about it, she saw that was true. Names didn't particularly mean something was what it sounded like. Dead Man's Cave wasn't so much a cave but a grotto, but she wondered if any of the boys knew the difference. Changing the name now however was pointless. Peter continued to show her the different landmarks on their way to the tree stump entrance: the overturned log that the boys liked to walk across, the rock shaped like a star (or compass, depending on who you asked), and finally the circle of neverberry bushes that encircled the small open field where the tree stump entrance lay.

"We can go over where some other entrances are tomorrow if you like," Peter offered.

Moira smiled, "I'd like that." She took his hand when he offered her a lift inside the trunk. As she lowered herself she paused. "Thanks again Peter. And I'm sorry that I started that scuffle earlier to distract you guys."

"That's okay, and I'm sorry that..." Peter paused, his eyes widening, "That was you?"

Moira disappeared down the hole before he could say anything more, leaving Peter frozen in his place before he shook his head and chuckled. '_Oh yes,'_ Peter thought. _'This will be fun.'_

* * *

><p><strong>In Memory of musician Davy Jones (1945-2012), who died during the writing of this chapter. Like Moira, he was my favorite member of the band <strong>_**The Monkees**_**, thus earning a mention in the story earlier.**

**If anyone's seen the trailer to the new Tim Burton film "Dark Shadows", did anyone notice the similar reactions certain characters had in regards to seeing someone on the TV for the first time I am very proud that I got to that first.**

**In the next chapter: there are Hook encounters, despite Peter's best efforts to protect Moira. This pirate will not be denied his introduction the next generation of Darling children.**

**Things that will be covered in upcoming chapters:**

**-the circumstances that made Jane leave Neverland for good. Warning, they're unpleasant memories and really show the sadistic side of Hook (no rape, I swear)**

**-the Banning's will be introduced near the end of this story in very explosive circumstances. Let's just say they will run into Peter…..very hard**

**-how 'bang-a-rang' got started**

**-Tootles' history may be brought up more in this story, but he becomes a rather large character near the end of PART 3. Still debating about how much to reveal since this is only PART 1**

**SomewhereOverTheRainbow****- I may have short interludes of the adults back home, but they will be few and in-between. While the children will be in Neverland for a LONG time, only a night will pass back in London so I can't have them too long**

**MermaidGirl34****- That's actually a really great suggestion and I may use it. I will try to put it in somewhere**


	7. Captain James Hook, At Your Service

**CHAPTER SEVEN: CAPTAIN JAMES HOOK, AT YOUR SERVICE**

The next few days passed with a higher level of calmness and ease in the underground house. True to his word, Peter took Moira out early the next morning to let her explore and helped her get more acquainted with the terrain. He flew most of the time, while she preferred to walk, not quite getting her 'air legs' as she called it. She'd always imagined flying would be easy and natural, and while years of his skin and clothes being coated in pixie dust gave Peter constant air time, Moira found that Tink would have to sprinkle her a few more times before flying would become natural. She could still do it but whenever she tried it took so much effort just to leave the ground. It took strength to fly, just as running did.

Peter had to forcibly shake Tink over Moira to make sure she had enough dust, but after seeing what looked like a promise of revenge in the fairy's eye Moira thought it best if she didn't make Tink try and help her for a while. The fairy had been waiting to get her in trouble again ever since Peter and she returned after her escape to Dead Man's Cave without punishment.

But today everyone had almost forgotten she'd been kept under lock and key, and now they were all together having fun and playing that day. They had all decided to do something together, something Moira hadn't seen yet and was quite excited, because with so many boys they tended to break-off into their own separate groups or games. Every one of them had a best friend (or two or three) so no one went without.

But today everyone agreed to hang out by Slightly Gulch, so named because Slightly was the first to actually try and name it. Peter had always known it was there, claiming that nothing happened in Neverland without him knowing, but said Slightly had been so proud when he 'discovered' it that Peter didn't have the heart to disappoint him.

The gulch fed into the ocean when the water was high enough, and after a rain storm the boys enjoyed going to the gulch to ride out the flash floods along the smooth stone. There was hardly a cloud in the sky that day, and when they arrived Moira's breathe was almost lost upon her as she saw the gulch.

It reminded her so much of movies she'd seen based in the old west. The entire gulch was lined with orange rock that had been so smoothed out by erosion she couldn't foresee any terrible injuries from the falls the boys would surely take. The air was dryer and though it was hot out, the sweat disappeared from their skin as soon as it condensed.

While Peter simply flew from the top cliffs of the gulch and landed on the sunbathing rocks below, the rest of the boys smoothly climbed down the rocks or sliding down cracks and lines in the canyon walls.

The boys were already wading into the water and stringing up their fishing poles by the time Moira, Jacob and Angie made it down. They had taken turns carrying Angie and passing her back and forth when one of them would progress further down. While Angie was enjoying herself, Moira and Jacob kept grunting at each other, "Do you have her? I said, DO YOU HAVE HER?"

Finally, Jacob was low enough where he just dropped Angie the last four feet before joining her. He ran off to join the others for a swim, while Angie waited for Moira to get down. Moira took off their shoes and took Angie's hand to lead them into the water, but Angie refused to go in any further when they approached the darker water.

Angie pulled backward and shook her head, "I can't see the bottom, what if there's something down there?"

Moira rolled her eyes, "There's nothing down there."

"But why is it so black right there?" Angie squeaked.

"Because that's where the rock ends," she indicated the submerged rock they were standing on, "You just can't see the rocks on the bottom, now come on." But Angie crossed her arms and refused to move. "Look, there's nothing dangerous here. I'll prove it to you."

Moira walked to the edge of the rock, the water now up to her waist. She bent slightly to put more of her upper torso in the water. The water directly in front of her was dark, she couldn't see a thing, but it calmed her to know that the water was clear and not murky. Guessing it was eight feet deep at least, she turned back to look at Angie, "See sissy, there's nothing there," she stretched her hand out to pat over and glide through the dark water. "Very safe, so why don't you just stop being a scaredy cat and come—"

Moira only just closed her mouth in time to avoid swallowing water as something tugged hard on her wrist and pulled her under the deep water. She flailed under the water for a moment, not sure how far she had been pulled under. Oh God, what had pulled her under? She began kicking frantically, trying to get away from whatever was in the water with her. The grip on her wrist loosened and suddenly she felt hands wrap around her waist and pull her upward.

Her head broke the surface and she took a quick, deep breathe. Opening her eyes she saw Angie was completely out of the water and cowering on the dry rock, her mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

Moira was about to swim to her when something broke the surface next to her and she saw Peter grinning like an idiot. The jerk had pulled her under! She immediately splashed him right in his face, effectively wiping the smile off it. Of course he returned the splash, resulting in a splash fight between the two until both were laughing through their dripping faces. They both swam back onto the shallow rock, Moira hoping to coax Angie back into the water.

"No!" Angie darted over some rocks when Peter rushed at her, "I don't want to play with you anymore!" She disappeared over the other side where Moira saw some of the smalls were playing earlier; she'd be fine with them.

While Moira wrote off Angie's reaction as normal, she realized she had to explain to Peter that Angie wasn't truly hurt by what had happened. Still, he had to understand that he couldn't be too rough on the little girl. "She'll get over it and be in the water as soon as she sees all of us having fun."

Peter shrugged, coming back into the water until it was up to his elbows, trailing his arms over the surface. "As long as she's not too mad. It was all in good fun."

"Still, I wouldn't try that on her if I were you. She'd just cry afterward and then she'd really be mad at you for a while; she's just too small for that type of play." Moira said.

"You're not mad, are you?" Peter asked wearily.

"Course not," Moira lazily doggy paddled over to him. "I'm a lady first and foremost. We don't get mad, we get even."

He narrowly missed the stream of water she spat at him before she laughed and quickly swam toward where most of the other boys were playing. For the next couple of hours the children did nothing but play and swim. By high noon everyone was cooling off in the water, fishing poles either reeled in or wedged between rocks to keep the lines in the water. A large log had floated by and had been commandeered by the children to be a makeshift boat. When they tired of that they had competitions to see who could stay standing up the longest on it.

Moira, along with Angie, Sprout and Nibs had all decided to sit on it and try to wiggle each other off. But a cannon ball from Thud Butt was what knocked them all off when the wave he created crashed into them. Moira had just pulled herself back into a sitting position on the log when she felt it propel forward. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Peter had braced both hands against the opposite end of the log and was using his flying to push the log through the water like he was a propeller.

She laughed as he picked up speed, the front of the log lifting slightly and forcing Moira to slide backward. When she was confident enough she sat up on her knees and lifted her arms up for balance, enjoying the ride.

While Peter and Moira surfed, some of the other boys had begun scaling the rocks along the gulch. Whenever they found a spot deemed safe enough, they would jump off and into the water. Dives, belly flops, flips and cannonballs were shown off, and every time they scaled higher the tricks became more daring. Jacob had been enjoying himself until he saw that the boys still aimed to climb higher.

The last jump they'd done had been at least 15 feet down, and Jacob found his tummy turning horribly just before he'd hit the water. He didn't enjoy the sensation of falling, and after getting sick from several fair rides he'd steered clear of them. But his heart sank as the boys joyfully climbed higher to the next ledge.

Don't Ask saw him hesitate, "What's up Jacob, too much for you?" He challenged.

Jacob's eyes narrowed, "No!"

Don't Ask smirked, "Then come on."

Reluctantly, Jacob began climbing after the line of boys. When they made it to the next ledge he observed the twins, Don't Ask, Thud Butt, Tin Tin, Book, Zipper and Crash peering over the edge. When Jacob saw how high they were he gulped, it looked like a 35 foot drop at least but to him it may as well have been a thousand.

He found himself unconsciously backing away from the edge, only to make contact with Tin Tin and Don't Ask. Those two were hardly ever out of each other's company, matching one another in appetite for danger and adventure. Don't Ask was very much like Curly in terms of being talkative, but where Curly spoke to make others laugh in good faith Don't Ask didn't appear to have a mute button of any kind. He was very outspoken and didn't care what anyone thought of it, which gave him an air of arrogance. Tin Tin was harder to read, seemingly always on guard. He hadn't warmed up to Jacob at all and he had a feeling he didn't like him very much.

Tin Tin raised an eyebrow at Jacob, "You gonna jump?" Jacob didn't answer, "You scared or something?"

Jacob stood stiff straight, his arms clenched at his sides, "It's uh, really high up."

Tin Tin scoffed and brushed past Jacob, who swore he heard the lost boy mutter, "Scared."

Tin Tin walked to the very edge and without any hesitation leapt into the air and away from the rock. All the boys were quiet as they watched him plummet toward the water feet first, only the sound of his splash breaking it. His fist broke the surface before the rest of his upper body, and he pumped it into the air in triumph as the boys cheered from above. Soon other boys jumped, some in pairs and others by themselves, but Jacob stayed back.

"Whoa, this is high up!" A female voice suddenly spoke. Jacob looked up to see Peter depositing Moira next to him, having flown them both up after seeing the boys jumping from their log.

A flash of a boy suddenly ran past them, "Watch this, Moira!" Peter jumped off the rock and immediately went into a tucked position. He rolled at least four times before uncurling himself and finishing with a perfect dive into the water. Moira clapped when he emerged, "That was amazing!"

Jacob grumbled to himself and looked down, leaning against the cliff behind him. He felt like a coward, not wanting to jump while everyone else was making it look so easy. Peter flew back up, the water dripping from him still, a subtle reminder to Jacob that he had yet to take the plunge. But it was Moira he addressed instead, "You want to try?"

His sister could do this, Jacob thought. She was always the one jumping off the swings on the playground, or pretending to hang out the highest window. Jacob felt his chest get heavy when he realized Peter had not so much as looked at him this entire time. _'Even he knows I can't do this, why would he waste his time?'_ He thought.

"Actually, I think I'll sit this one out," said Moira. "Jacob knows how I am with falls, so he's going to keep me company for a bit."

Peter didn't see Jacob's look of surprise, instead asking, "You sure? It's really fun."

"Maybe later," she shrugged. She heard the boys calling from below, they'd found the log again and wanted Peter to push them like he had Moira. "Go ahead and play with them, I'm going to hang out with Jacob a bit and maybe he can talk me off a lower cliff."

"Suit yourself," he said, and once again made an extravagant exit of the cliff.

Brother and sister were left alone, and Jacob realized this was the first time he and Moira had had any privacy together since arriving in Neverland. Growing up with sisters he'd been denied certain male companionship that allowed him to always rough house, be loud or share certain things if he'd had brothers. Sure he had some guy friends in London but outside of school he couldn't always find them to play a game of football or just talk about guy things. He thought his dad was the one who always took him fishing in the summer, or maybe it was his uncle Tootles, but either way it was great to suddenly have all these new brothers to play with. But it also made him feel guilty that he hadn't done anything when Moira wasn't allowed to leave the underground house for those few days after the pirates chased her and Angie. Where had he been that he couldn't even have protected her?

But she had taken care of herself, and now was saving him from embarrassment of all things. "Why'd you do that?"

She pretended to be aloof, "Do what?"

"Say you hated falls? We both know that's not true."

"Do you want me to jump and leave you here?" When he didn't answer she sighed, "You're welcome."

Normally he would have taken that the wrong way, but he saw she wasn't being arrogant about it. Moira was without a doubt the only girl he was ever afraid of. He always remembered the ugly bruise she'd given him when, after he'd caught up to her in height and felt more arrogant about it, he told her to her face that she would never be as good at stuff because she was a girl. She had just stared at him for a moment before punching him in the shoulder very hard, to the point where she almost drew tears, and walked off saying, "Compliments of a girl who can't do stuff!"

But right now she was trying to look the weaker one to make him feel better, and he was touched. "Thanks," he mumbled.

After a few minutes of just leaning against the cliffs with only the sounds of the boys playing below, Moira asked. "Do you think you'll ever jump off a cliff this high?"

Jacob snorted, "Not likely."

"Well not with everyone watching of course," Moira pointed out.

Eyeing his sister, Jacob asked, "What are you getting at?"

"Maybe," Moira began, "you should try and practice jumping where the boys won't see you at first. I know I hate it when people are watching and waiting to see if I mess up doing things," she thought back to how she hated people watching her draw.

Though she could tell he was trying to act indifferent, she saw that he was genuinely considering what she was saying. She decided to give him a little push. "Come on, let walk a bit further ahead and find a more comfortable edge to jump off."

"But what about Peter?" He asked.

"He'll hardly miss us," she said. "We'll probably be back before he even knows we're gone. And I'll tell everyone what a tall cliff you jumped off of, how does that sound?"

He looked down at the ground considering, before nodding and giving her a smile, "Okay. But let's go now before I chicken out."

Slightly Gulch seemed to be shaped very much like a serpentine, so the siblings did not have to climb or walk far before they essentially rounded a corner and were out of sight from the others.

Moira knew that all Jacob needed was to get used to jumping from the taller cliffs, away from the boys who would probably laugh at him if he kept hesitating. But this way, he could take as much time as he wanted, and she would be sure to witness it so he had someone to back him up if he couldn't do it again.

"Are you sure you want to try this one?" Moira asked. They had found a cliff edge that was a height twin to the one they just left. "We could try smaller and work our way—"

"No," Jacob shook his head stubbornly. "I want to go big or none at all."

She gave him an uneasy look, "Okay."

She watched him approach the edge and slowly look down. Big mistake. She saw the breathe catch in his throat and he backed away from the drop timidly. Jacob was not afraid of heights, just death by falling. After all, they somehow flew all the way here without him freaking out. He moved slowly back to the edge, this time with his eyes closed. Toeing his way to the edge she saw him mutter something under his breath before crouching, ready to jump. Moira stilled, waiting for him to take the leap, but instead he scrambled backward at the last minute.

Turning his back from the edge, Jacob's shoulders hunch he began breathing heavily. "Why can't I do this?" He wailed, looking on the verge of tears.

Moira was at a loss, she tried to come up with something encouraging. "It's not a big deal if you don't want to jump."

"Yes it is," he hissed. "Everyone outside the little kids can do it without chickening out. Even you can do it!" He referred to a camping trip they had taken with their uncle Sam the previous summer. Moira was the only one who went cliff jumping at a small pond with their uncle, Jacob preferring to swim at the base and cheer them on. "I just wanted to be able to do this one thing, but I can't even do that."

Moira had no idea what he was talking about. He had done nothing but tag along with the boys on various outings since they got here, and she hadn't thought she'd heard him or the other boys complain about his lack of skill.

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

Letting out a sigh, Jacob sat down crossed legged on the rock and waited until Moira joined him. "I'm not as good as the other boys: I'm not as fast, or strong, and I just feel so helpless sometimes." Her brother looked so small to her now, suddenly make himself look frailer then she liked. "You should see them Moira, just how easy they make everything look. They can all hunt and run through a forest without having to check where they're going. They follow tracks I can't see and play games I don't know rules to. Sometimes I hear them laugh at me when I do something wrong." His voice getting higher and growing strained; Moira could see he was fighting tears as he lowered his head into the palm of his hands.

Not wanting to see her brother cry, she wrapped and arm around his now shaking shoulders and pulled him close. Now she felt horrible. She had been so focused on making sure that Angie was safe and worrying about how the boys would treat her that she didn't even fathom how Jacob was fairing. It was true that her brother wasn't exactly the one who was picked first for teams, and that he was a tad more sensitive when it came to how he took in situations. She used to just think he was boring, but when he found his voice in music he had this change come about him. He had this influx of life rush into him whenever he plucked his guitar, and she'd seen him sit against the base of the record player while it played, his eyes closed and his head leaning back, lost in his own little world as the music washed over him.

But here he was out of his element.

"I'm sorry," Moira whispered to him. "I thought you were having a good time. I've been so focused on Angie that I didn't notice anything."

"It's okay. I didn't know you weren't allowed to leave the house; if I did I would have helped you," he murmured, raising his head to meet her gaze. "Why didn't you ask me to? Why did you get the others?"

"Because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Peter. If boys who'd been here forever helped me get out, I thought that would help him see he shouldn't have done it."

He seemed to accept that explanation and she was glad to see he'd calmed down a bit from before. They sat there for a while, neither of them speaking and instead took in the view before them. Beating down on them from above, the sun lit up the water so beautifully that they almost had to shield their eyes from the light as it reflected off the surface. Moira felt as sense of peace overcome her and she realized this was the first time she'd really been alone to clear her thoughts outside of the house. Jacob wasn't demanding anything of her or calling her attention to something he'd done or was asking when dinner would be ready. Just a brother and sister taking in the sights.

She wanted to help him get in better with the boys, and she figured the first step was getting him to jump off the cliff and into the water. She needed to help him figure out a way to ease his fear of falling, so when he went to take the plunge he wouldn't hold back. After all, if he could fly all the way here from London then he should be able to—

Flying! That was it; she knew how she could get him to jump. If he could find the inner power to fly, then she was sure the same could be used to help him do this.

"I have an idea that could help," she interrupted the silence rather brashly, causing Jacob to jump. "When we were learning to fly we needed to think of a happy thought, didn't we? So why not just use your happy thought to jump?"

She could tell he was skeptical, but he looked down at the ground in thought, "I'm not sure."

But she would not let him give up. Quickly standing up she grabbed his arm and made him rise with her. He looked at her questioningly as she put an arm over his shoulder lazily, trying to make what they were about to do casual and relaxing.

"_**Woke up this mornin' feelin' fine,"**_ she began to sing the lyrics of his favorite song, his happy thought. _**"There's somethin' special on my mind."**_ When he didn't join in she gave him a hard look and the next lyrics came out tersely. _**"Last night I met a new girl in the neighborhood, whoa yeah."**_

Sighing in defeat, his notes came out rather flat as they joined together, _**"Somethin' tells me I'm into something good."**_

Moira narrowed her eyes at him, frowning. "Don't act like you don't sing this in the shower." She chided.

"Ugh, fine!" He huffed.

"And relax," she took her arm off him. "You're way too tense."

His jaw dropped open slightly, "I'm about to jump off a 50 foot cliff, that doesn't exactly ease me down."

She would have kept arguing with him but they had other matters to attend to. She began singing the next verse, Jacob reluctantly joining her as she went on. Every few words they took another step to get closer to the edge, Moira trying to keep the song uplifting and unassuming. She figured if she didn't build up to the moment then Jacob's nerves wouldn't get the better of him.

"_**I walked her home and she held me hand,"**_Jacob felt Moira take his hand, and he unconsciously squeezed it. _**"I knew it couldn't be just a one-night stand. So I asked to see her next week and she told me I could."**_ They were now two feet away from the drop, but she urged them both forward and had to admire that Jacob didn't try and resist this time, they took a final step and she saw him close his eyes as he raised his leg where he knew there was no solid ground. _**"Something tells me I'm into something good."**_

Together they pushed forward and off the cliff.

Jacob couldn't remember if they let go of their hands just after the jumped or just before they hit the water, but the wind rushing past their ears seemed to go on forever. He watched the water rise up to meet them, and upon feeling his own weight pulling him down faster he closed his eyes and felt his stomach flip upward.

He pressed his feet together just before he hit the water, it almost winding him as he struggled not to gasp for breathe. The silence and darkness surrounded him, refusing to open his eyes in case when he did he would find himself back on top of the cliff, Moira still trying to get him to jump.

He kicked his feet and pushed his arms to find his way to the surface. He must have been deeper than he thought, because his lungs almost burst when he finally broke and gasped for air. Next to him he heard a similar sound and knew Moira had also resurfaced. He whipped his hair out of his face and turned to look at her.

But she was looking up, and when he followed her gaze he saw she was looking at the cliff they'd just jumped. That he had just jumped. He had actually done it! It had appeared so impossibly high from the top, but now he couldn't understand why he had been so afraid.

"You did it!" Moira laughed.

He suddenly whooped, his voice carrying off the cliff walls. Moira then found herself trying not to drown as Jacob wrapped his arms around her and their weight dragged the both of them down. They emerged sputtering water through their laughter. "I knew you could do it!"

Jacob couldn't help but grin; feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and that he could jump from a thousand feet if he wanted. Honestly, what had he been so afraid of?

It took him a moment to notice Moira suddenly looking behind him, her body stiffening as she tried to keep afloat. Her eyes widened as she tried and failed to hold back a gasp.

Jacob looked over his shoulder, only to see two sets of eyes staring at him as well. In a small alcove at the base of the cliff, not twenty feet away from them, were two pirates in dingy. One Moira recognized as Billy Jukes, whose eyes narrowed on her as she was sure he remembered the day she escaped him and Smee. The other pirate was unknown to her. While menacing in nature, both wore looks of surprise on their faces. Apparently neither had expected two children to suddenly drop in on them from the sky, but they would certainly use it to their advantage.

This is why as soon as the children attempted to swim away the pirates took action. They quickly grasped the oars and rowed closer to the children in the water. Moira tried to propel herself through the water, which in her panic she half swallowed and began to choke on pathetically while still trying to swim away. She didn't dare try to look behind her but the thump of oars hitting the floor of the boat caused a sudden urge of panic to shoot through her.

Rough hands reached over the side and dragged them out of the water. Jukes had wrenched Moira out by the collar of her dress, which she now thanked any higher power that convinced her to swim in it instead of just her undershirt, while Jacob's upper arms were grabbed by the other pirate.

Jukes wrapped an arm around her waist, effectively trapping her arms at her sides while he reached for something alongside the floor, "Catch the rope, Starkey." He threw it to his crewmate just as Moira began struggling. He wrenched her arms behind her back and quickly went about tying them. She looked up to see Jacob attempting to kick at Starkey, who had him by the upper arm while holding the rope in his other hand.

"Settle down now," Starkey ordered, shaking Jacob's arm to try and jostle him but the boy was having none of it. "Leave my sister alone!" He shouted, trying to reach Moira.

Jacob stopped struggling suddenly when he felt cold steal against his throat, and Starkey's voice whispering menacingly in his ear, "Behave yourself or you and your sister get tied to the anchor and tossed over the side, cully."

Reluctantly Jacob stopped his struggling, letting out a huff when Starkey felt his muscles slacken in defeat. He let Starkey tie his hands without a fight and was made so sit in the middle of the dingy. Moira was shoved down unceremoniously next to him by Jukes, who was less inclined to worry over his captives comfort.

"Is this the girl you saw that day, Jukes?" Starkey asked, resting his blade over his shoulder. When Jukes only growled, Starkey couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes. We have our orders, you know what to do."

Starkey observed the brother and sister on the floor of the dingy. The girl had landed hard on her side and he watched as she struggled to sit up, the boy letting her lean against him as she slowly pushed herself up. When she did, she looked around and saw that they were rowing toward the mouth of the gulch where it fed into the ocean and away from Peter and the boys.

If she called out now, really tried to cry, maybe Peter would hear her and get there in time before they got too far away. Or maybe she would enrage the pirates so much that they would kill her and Jacob on the spot. And what orders was Starkey talking about?

As they rounded the next bend, Jukes, who was behind the children and rowing, couldn't help but giggle to himself. "Could you imagine when we set out to go catch us some fish today that we would wind up bagging ourselves a mother and a lost boy? Couldn't imagine anything better to surprise the captain with."

Starkey laughed in return, himself sitting down and facing the children who were trying to shrink away from him, but they were hopelessly trapped between the two pirates. "Practically jumped into our boat," he agreed. "What's wrong little pigeons; did you run out of fairy dust?" He sneered.

Jacob spared Starkey a glare before he turned his head and buried it in Moira's shoulder. He was such a coward, he thought. If only he could have just jumped the cliff with the rest of the boys instead of wandering off so no one would see him squirm. And now he shamefully tried to hide his face using his sister, the one who stuck by him and didn't have to try and help him get over it. Now they were trapped

Moira finally found the courage to speak, "Where are you taking us?"

"That's for the captain to know and you to find out," Jukes said, grinning evilly. She felt Jacob curl harder into her shoulder.

This was bad, very bad. Moira had no idea where they were being taken and who knew how long it would take before Peter realized they were gone. The boat was only taking them farther down the gulch before finally they came to the mouth, opening into the ocean. They rowed further out into the open water, but didn't seem to be heading in any certain direction just yet; they just seemed to be getting as far out from the land as they could.

The breath caught in her throat quickly when she looked to their right. It startled Jacob enough to look up and see the Jolly Roger was just on the horizon. Oh no, were they taking them to the ship? Neither could hold back the scream that tore from them when the sound of a gunshot pierced the air. Starkey had stood up and produced a pistol from his belt, and fired a single shot into the sky. He was sending a signal to the ship.

But why? Wouldn't he just take them straight to the ship and into Hook's waiting arms? Moira and Jacob exchanged puzzled looks. Behind them, Jukes had taken out his spyglass and was watching the ship. A few minutes passed and he suddenly shot up and dragged Moira to stand up, "Come on girly, let them get a clear look at you."

Her feet were not touching the floor, and for a moment she feared Jukes would throw her over the side to drown. Instead he just held her out in front of him. But upon looking at the ship, really squinting to make out the closer details, she saw what looked like a man peering over the rail of the ship. Several more joined him and Moira began feeling like a toy at show and tell. After a minute she saw one of deckhands wave some sort of flag at them.

Only then did Jukes put her back down. Suddenly she was the one seeking out Jacob for comfort, the thought of suddenly seeing more pirates filling her with fear of what they planned for them. But when Jukes began rowing he didn't head towards the ship, in fact going the exact opposite direction. They were keeping close to the island shore but it was not their intended destination just yet.

What was going on?

'_Where are those guys?'_ Peter thought to himself.

He admitted he wasn't concerned at first when he saw Moira and Jacob weren't at the top of the cliff where he'd left them. He'd hoped one of them would jump down and join them in the water where he and the other boys were water skiing with him as the pulley. When he figured they'd had time to be boring together he thought he should give them a reminder that they should be down having fun.

But they weren't there.

"Moira," he called, looking around. "Jacob?" No answer came. He wondered if they were playing hide and seek, but dismissed that since that was no fun with only two people on the rocky terrain. That also meant there weren't that many places to hide.

He flew away from the heart of the gulch, exploring the serpentine. He called out a name ever few minutes, trying to find his friends. He was actually starting to worry now. Where had they gone? Horrible images of them falling on a shallow rock, or drowning filled his head and he soon found himself searching between every crack and under every rock, hoping he wouldn't come across a body.

He quickly calmed himself. After all, this was Moira he was talking about. She wouldn't be the type to do anything that would get her or Jacob hurt, especially after her run in with the pirates. The gulch was filled with alcoves and caves; maybe they just got caught up exploring—

He stopped mid-air when the sound of a gunshot shattered the silence.

'_Well, that can't be good.'_

They were being taken to Marooners' Rock.

Moira should have been glad that they weren't going to the ship, the proverbial lion's den so to speak. But why take them all the way there? The ship was in their eyesight when the pirates had signaled each other, but instead they'd rowed out of their way along the shore until they could no longer see the Jolly Roger. When she recognized that they were not far from Mermaid Lagoon she knew exactly where they were going.

Speaking to one another had not been smiled upon. When Jacob whispered to her, asking what she thought was going on, Jukes had clipped him on the back of his head just as Moira tried to answer. After that they'd just pressed their shoulders together and tried to keep as far away from the pirates as possible.

Though it was still the afternoon, a sudden chillness had come over the lagoon and Moira found herself shivering but not just from the cold. She remembered the stories Gram had told them, one of the more dangerous and formidable ones taking place right there on that very rock. She'd seen it once from the shore, not having swum in the lagoon yet because of apprehension towards the mermaids, and she thought it looked fun to sunbathe or jump off of. It seemed to slope into two layers, and she had enjoyed imaging herself cradling into the bottom layer while Peter stood on top and told her a tale of adventure.

But in the shadow of the mist that had suddenly started to overtake the lagoon, she saw the rock for its true purpose and namesake. It now looked twisted and deformed, unlike any other rock that rose from the ocean; it would disappear completely when the tide came in but emerged like a sea monster when the tide was out. Honestly, what had she been thinking going on daydreaming about spending a lazy afternoon on that rock?

People came here to die.

They came to a stop just on the edge, Jukes getting out first to secure the dingy using fishing net that had been left forgotten on the floor; he had used all the spare rope in tying up the children. Starkey stood up before them and held his hand up coaxingly, "Come on, ladies first."

Moira shook her head and tried to make herself as small as possible, whimpering out, "No!" She was not getting on that rock.

He roughly grabbed her and she was flung over his shoulder, Jukes taking care of moving Jacob. "Hey!" She yelled, wriggling to get free. Starkey was not moved at all and actually had the gall to chide her, "You had your chance to come quietly, getting yourself out in a dignified manner. But no, you little rapscallions always have to make things harder on yourselves."

He had just set her down on the rock when Jukes climbed out the boat with Jacob. He laughed, "Why you complaining? Can't remember the last time I held a lass over my shoulder." He made Jacob sit down next to Moira, who now eyed him with a new kind of curiosity. To her Jukes was still a bloodthirsty pirate, but upon looking at him now she saw he was younger than what little of the crew she had already seen. She pegged him in his late teens at least.

For next several minutes no one said anything. Jukes and Starkey were looking out into the water, searching for something. Not that anything could be seen with the sudden fog that had overtaken the lagoon and encased them. The sunlight had also dimmed tremendously, hidden behind dark clouds that now crowded the sky. Not even the shore was visible to them; they could have been in the middle of the ocean and Moira would not have known the way the fog had cut them off.

Then a small ball of light became visible through the haze. For the first time Moira had hoped she was seeing Tinkerbelle, who while didn't take kindly to her would surely not let Jacob be left to harm and get help. But as it got closer she saw that it was in fact a lantern connected to the bow of a longboat. Two figures resided in it; the one in the front was the only one standing up. Even without ever seeing him before, the children recognized the silhouette of Captain James Hook. From the corners of their nightmares he was always in view, tall and menacing with his piercing eyes that never left you. Even with his face cast in shadow the children swore they could feel those eyes peering at them.

Gentleman Starkey, living up to his name, helped his captain out of the longboat by grasping the arm offered to him and the children were horrified to see that it was the one sporting his hook. A thanks was hinted to the pirate but never spoken aloud, words they were sure would never pass their captain's lips. It was rumored that the only one he would thank is Peter Pan for cutting for his off hand and giving him the use of his fine hook, just before he would use it to rip the boy open and pull out his still beating heart.

"Don't do anything to make him angry," Moira quickly whispered to Jacob. With the pirate's attention solely on their captain Moira thought it was good a time as any to speak without being caught. Peter had told her that if she were ever in the position where she was captured by Hook that she should not try and push his buttons. While she was more likely to be kept alive as bait or to get information, there was always a chance she could be killed before being able to escape. And with Jacob here she didn't want there to be any chance he would be killed because she mouthed off. She quickly added, "And don't tell him anything important."

Smee followed Hook out of the boat, carrying the lantern with him and setting it on the edge of the rock. Hook turned his head and finally focused on nothing but the two bound children before him.

He had seen the girl through the spyglass from the _Jolly Roger_, held up by Jukes on full display for his benefit and so Smee could properly identify her as the girl he saw that day picking apples. _'At last we meet, my dear,' _he thought as he approached her and her brother. Originally he thought the whelp to just be another lost boy; a notch to add to his belt of incorrigible street rats he'd see at the end of his sword. But when he saw the two of them together, those exchanged looks of concern only seen amongst kin, he knew they were siblings.

They also had their mother's eyes.

Smee had told him everything he had overheard the two girls saying that day by the apple trees. At the mention of their mother being the first lost girl, his suspicions were confirmed that Pan had once again decided to pick a girl from the now infamous Darling family line. While not shocked at Pan's taste in mothers, he was taken aback that Jane had allowed her children to come here. Certainly after their last encounter here when she was a child had purged her of ever wanting to return, knowing the dangers he was willing to unleash.

Unless, he smiled at the thought, she didn't know they had come. _I will be all but happy to educate them on why no little children love me_.

He couldn't help but smile as he approached them and saw them trying to resist moving away despite their bonds. He knelt down in front of them, putting on an air of normalcy that the children saw right through, and removed his hat. "Good afternoon."

'_It was,' _Moira thought bitterly.

Hook saw on her face what her lips wouldn't say and found himself smiling. Would he expect anything different from someone raised by Jane of all people? While she kept an air of shaky confidence, the boy kept his head down but his eyes up at the captain.

"And what are your names, children?" He asked. His voice was very low, almost husky but clear as a bell. He had a proper way about him that made the children comfortable and uneasy at the same time.

Hook expected the silent treatment, for them to simply wait until forced to reveal anything about themselves or the others. But he was taken aback when the girl suddenly let out, "None of your business."

He raised his eyebrows before letting out a chuckle, one that let Moira know she'd probably made a mistake speaking. "Everything that happens in Neverland is my business, my dear _Moira_."

Moira's head shot up and her eyes widened as she stared at him, "How did you—"

"My ears are everywhere child, you'd be surprised what they can pick up," Hook suppressed laughing when Moira shot a glare at Smee, who merely waved back at her smugly. Hook turned his gaze towards the boy, "Though regretfully I do not know your name young lad. I'd shake hands but I can see your both a bit tied up at the moment. So pray tell, what's your name?"

Jacob's eyes darted between Moira and Hook, his mind debating the consequences of what both of them wanted. Finally he mumbled, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

This time Hook chuckled, but it was laced with a menacing undertone that he didn't bother trying to hide. "Dear boy, I am many things but a stranger to your family I am not." In a flash Hook's good hand had shot out like an eel and grabbed the back of Jacob's head, grasping his hair in such a way that forced the boy to look straight up at the captain. Moira could only watch as Jacob held back a whimper when Hook turned his wrist ever so slightly to increase the pressure as he spoke.

"I am the reason children like you lie awake at night, too scared to close their eyes out of fear that I will appear from the shadows and kill them in their beds for their parents to find," Jacob was desperately trying to turn his head away from Hook, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out his horrifying words. He felt something cold touch his cheek and didn't have to open his eyes to know it was the sharp end of his hook; he stopped moving his head immediately. "And the joy that very thought fills me with cannot compete with the fate I may have in store for your friend Peter Pan when he decides to grace us with his presence."

"Peter doesn't know where we are!" Moira's voice almost broke. Seeing Jacob almost on the verge of tears was getting too much for her, she needed to distract Hook so he would leave him alone. Lying through her teeth she said, "Actually we were on our way back home. Peter and us had a fight and we decided to leave; he won't come for us."

Hook regarded Moira for a moment, scrutinizing every inch of her. Moira tried to keep her eyes steady and her breathing even as to not give him reason to doubt her. She let out a breathe of relief when Hook released his grip on Jacob, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to bury his head his in Moira's neck again. The only reason he refrained was because to go near his sister was to be back in Hook's sight again.

"Leaving were you?" Hook asked calmly, to which Moira quickly nodded. He then asked very slowly, "Are you sure that's the story you want to stick with, my dear?"

She paused just a little too long for his liking, not that he didn't know right away that she was lying. However, he preferred to let her dig her own grave before tossing her into it. He turned over his shoulder and calmly asked, "Where were they found?"

"In the gulch, Captain," Jukes replied. "Dropped from the sky and right in front of our fishing boat."

Hook looked amused, "Ran out of pixie dust after your little lover's spat did you?" He sneered at the children before turning back to the crew members, "Did they look in any hurry to leave, gentlemen?"

From the mocking way he spoke, Moira knew he didn't believe her story. Her hope began sinking into her stomach as the pirates said that she and Jacob were laughing after they emerged from the water, conveying they had been having a very decent time before being caught.

"I see," Hook had finished listening to the two crew members before looking back at Moira. "My dear, tell me, do I appear a fool to you?"

"I—um—no?" Moira stuttered trying to think of an answer that wouldn't anger him.

"Think hard on that," Hook's tone curled, "Because I am beginning to think that you see me as a very stupid man in order for me to believe that story, and do you know why?"

Moira couldn't hold back the scream that escaped her when his hook snagged her at the back of her neck, pulling her forward and out of her sitting position. His actual hand gripped her jaw brutally so she couldn't turn away as he growled, "Make no mistake today. I am many, MANY things, but a fool I am not. I know you would never leave without your little sister, so save me the trouble of having to hurt you and cooperate," he flung her back down so hard that she landed on her side.

Moira tried to roll and get up, but found the wind almost knocked out of her when Hook's boot pinned her chest down to the rock and his sword at her throat. Hook addressed Jacob, who was almost near tears, "Now, what's your name boy?"

"JACOB!" He answered without hesitation.

The corner of Hook's mouth turned into a smirk, "There, now that wasn't so hard was it? Answer my questions and I won't run you and your charming sister through today." He mocked. "Now, what were you doing at the gulch?" When he saw Jacob hesitate he snuck the tip of his sword just under Moira's chin, causing her to gasp.

"We were cliff jumping," Jacob said, defeated.

"By yourselves?" Hook prompted.

Moira saw Jacob wrestle with the guilt of giving into Hook, of betraying their friends. But she couldn't find it in her heart to be angry with him when a sword was at her throat. Jacob let a sad sigh escape him before answering, "The others were nearby."

"Meaning our young Master Pan is nearby as well," Hook concluded.

Moira thought Hook too proud and mean for her liking, and wanted to make sure he knew. If she was going to die he would not find her making it easy. She practically snarled, "Peter's too smart for that, he will see right through your plan."

Hook stared at her for a moment before putting pressure on the tip of the sword, causing her chin to jut out and glare directly at the captain.

"Our friend Peter is many things, my dear," Hook calmly and pointedly said. "He may be smart, but he is also loyal and I plan on using that to my advantage." Hook then barked orders to his men, demanding that they bring the anchor from the dingy up to the rock before turning his attention back to the girl. "And while loyalty is something I admire, time is not on Peter's side right now so he will have less time to prepare a strategy."

When his boot left her chest and his sword left her neck, Moira only had a moment of relief before Starkey dragged her into a sitting position and deposited her back next to Jacob. Upon being made to sit back to back, Starkey produced a small anchor and placed it upright between them. He and Jukes then went about tying their already bound hands to the stem of the anchor. Moira was so occupied trying to wrestle her hands away from Jukes that she almost missed Hook's question, "I assume you both know the history behind Marooner's Rock?"

She paused for a moment, looking back at the fog entrenched water for the first time since Hook stepped foot on the rock. She prayed it was her imagination but she could not deny that the water had risen slightly.

Seeing the look of horrifying realization on the children's faces, Hook smiled and added, "Then you know time is not on your side either."

Jukes had managed to get Moira's hands tied to the anchor just as Starkey finished with a now equally hostile Jacob. Moira didn't know if it was the increasing likelihood of drowning or just the skin crawling touch of the pirate that drove her to do what she did, but she found that she had had enough of these men gaining the upper hand. She did not even know she'd lifted her foot and kicked Jukes behind the knees until his body suddenly collapsed next to her.

Seeing the whole thing, Jacob let a small laugh escape him. Moira also cracked a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment at finally taking a pirate off guard, but that smile soon disappeared as Jukes gained his bearings and rose. "You little bitch!" He snarled and raised his hand to backhand her.

Moira closed her eyes and tensed, preparing for the blow, but it never came. Instead she felt a rush of wind and heard the sound of a splash. Opening her eyes she saw Jukes disappear head-first into the water, like he had just decided to dive over the side.

Looking at the settling ripples in the water, Moira was about ready to ask out loud what had happened when a shadow quickly darted over the surface of the water before disappearing, a shadow she knew all too well.

"Peter!" She whispered to herself, relieved.

"Pan!" She heard Hook snarl.

The sound of metal sliding against metal was the only sound that penetrated the air after that; Hook, Smee and Starkey had drawn out their swords and were at the ready. Their eyes were upward, searching the foggy sky for a hint of the flying boy.

No one made a sound as they waited for Peter to appear again. Moira had never been more relieved a terrified to see Peter, keeping his promise to always keep her safe from the pirates. But what if he didn't escape Hook's revenge this time? Moira could never forgive herself knowing Peter could die because of her.

Heads shot toward the direction of the island when a loud crow pierced the air. Was Peter giving off a signal? Were the others here to help? The possibilities ran through Moira's mind as she wondered how Peter planned on rescuing them.

She almost jumped out of her skin a minute later when she felt something brush against her bound hands. She whipped her head back only to come face to face with Peter, who was signaling her to be quiet. Crouching as far as he could behind the edge of the rock, he continued trying to manually untie Moira and Jacob's hands.

The siblings tried to bodily block Peter from the view of the pirates should they turn around, sensing that Peter had moved from the direction of the shore. A brilliant distraction on Peter's part, the boy only wished that he could use his knife to cut through the layers of rope but he knew from experience the sawing would be overheard. He could get one of them free in time before the pirates noticed but he was not willing to risk leaving the other behind.

Moira tried not to flinch as Peter's hands caused the ropes to unconsciously tighten and bite into her wrists. She heard him whisper the faintest apology, but could also his patience thinning as he struggled to undo the rope.

"PAN!"

The siblings flinched, thinking they had been caught. They didn't need to see to know that Peter had ducked down further behind the rock. But Hook was only facing sideways to them, peering out into the fog and searching in vain for Peter. He had yelled for the boy, willing him to appear and give him the fight to the finish the captain had been craving since the day Peter had cut off his hand.

A fight Peter would gladly give him, once he got his friends to safety.

But he could do nothing as Hook took several steps along the surface of the rock, squinting to see any shadow or outline that could be Peter, not knowing he was less than ten feet away. If he were willing to risk his friend's impalement he would laugh right now at the irony.

Barely avoiding Hook's eyes as the pirate quickly jerked his head in the children's direction, Peter ducked as he heard Hook approach Moira and Jacob. The pirate paused steps in front of them, holding them in place with a cold stare that caused a shiver to creep up their spines. Moira did not like the look in his eyes that began to dance with a plot.

"Call for him," Hook commanded softly but firmly.

"W-what?" Moira sputter, taken aback.

Raising his hooked hand, he gestured it toward her face closer after every word until it very nearly made contact with her cheek. "Call. For. Peter. Now."

She raised her eyebrows at the captain, questioning the seriousness of the situation in a way only a child who knew a secret would. As far as she knew Peter was directly behind her and Jacob, huddling underneath the edge of the rock. If anything she had hoped that Hook would stay a reasonable distance away from them so Peter could work the ropes free. What was she supposed to do?

Figuring that it would be better to cooperate, Moira started weakly calling out Peter's name. She hoped that would make Hook move away or at least focus his attention elsewhere until they were free.

But Hook did not look away from her; in fact he hadn't so much as blinked to break the eye contact he held her captive with. He studied her and saw that something about her manner put him off. She and the boy were more relaxed, more confident than they had any right to be considering their situation. Something had happened to give them hope that they would escape this rock alive. He would remedy that.

He saw Jukes slowly recover from the water, having been pushed far enough out that the fog had encased him and the pirate had only now found his way back to Marooner's Rock. Knowing that his youngest crew member would enjoy what he planned next, Hook was waiting for Jukes to get closer.

He planned on pulling his hook back as if to plunge straight into the girl's heart, hoping to tear from her the fearful cry that would draw Pan out of his hiding place in the fog. Whether or not he would actually hurt the girl at this moment he was still contemplating; wouldn't want Pan to miss all the fun would he?

But when Jukes froze, his eyes fixating on something in front of him that Hook could not see, everything changed. Hook wondered what the idiot was looking at, the children being the only objects that could hold such interest since they were quite literally in the middle of Jukes and the captain. Before he could ask what the bloody hell he was staring at, Jukes pulled a dagger and charged forward. Instead of aiming upward at Moira in last-ditch effort of revenge like Hook thought he would, he aimed for the base of the rock.

With a yell, Jukes disappeared from view when he dove for something obstructed from view by the rock edge. Just as he dove down, something (or someone) else dove upward and out of the way of Jukes and his knife.

Peter had not expected Jukes to recover that quickly when he kicked him off the rock just as he was about to strike Moira for that very well-placed kick she gave him. He was hoping Jukes would hit his head on a rock or at least get lost in the fog long enough for him to free the others, but this sent the entire plan into chaos.

He barely escaped being stabbed in the ribs when he hastily shot forward to get away. In his panic he actually collided with Moira and Jacob and their pet anchor that held them in place, sending all three of them forward and sprawled out on the hard surface of the rock. He barely had time to look up before he felt something grab his hair and pull him up.

Wincing as Hook's fingers dug painfully into his scalp, his head was pulled back until he met Hook's forget-me-not eyes that suddenly lit up with a ferociousness few children had seen and lived to tell about. Peter suddenly found himself pitched forward, Hook shoving him with such force that he almost felt his elbow crack when he brought it forward to break his fall on the rock.

Jumping to his feet quickly, he pushed forward just in time to miss being pierced by the blade of a sword. Peter stood up and spun round to face Hook, his dagger now in his hand and at the ready. Hook may have been coldhearted but he wanted Peter to face him when he died. Hook had been disappointed when Peter allowed himself to be taken by surprise by Jukes, causing him to stumble and act most sloppy.

But Peter found his bearings quickly and wasted no time in orchestrating the first move. The pause lasted only a few seconds before Peter launched forward, his dagger aimed straight at Hook's chest. The captain deflected the blow and advanced, causing Peter to step back to counter another jab from Hook. Soon he was being forced further and further to the edge of the rock. Normally this would deter any foe into trying and push forward and take the advantage back, but Peter had used this trick before.

When Peter's foot hit nothing but air he simply kept 'walking' as if there was still steady ground. With their blades still locked together, Hook was unaware what Peter had done until he took another step forward and stumbled when his foot met nothing. Taking advantage, Peter quickly ducked under Hook's arm and elbowed him in the back, making sure Hook toppled over the side.

He relied on the sound of splash to confirm Hook was temporarily distracted, as he quickly needed to get the other pirates out of the way. His crewman had learned that whenever Hook was locked in battle with the boy that they were not to interfere unless otherwise instructed. But Peter knew that once Hook was momentarily not an issue that they would attack.

Predicable Smee almost ignored Peter all together in order to see if he could retrieve his captain. But Starkey and Jukes were an entirely different matter.

Moira was craning her head to try and see what was going on. She and Jacob had been completely blindsided when Peter suddenly flew into them to avoid Jukes. The momentum completely knocking them over, Peter yelped as he tried not to land on them too hard. Moira had opened her eyes for a moment to see Peter looking down at her worryingly before he was bodily lifted off of them by Hook.

She had tried to sit up but the now overturned anchor kept her and Jacob grounded. She was on her side and facing away from the fight, with only the sound of scuffling feet and the occasional grunt to keep her company. Until she could get free she was completely useless as this anchor was on dry land. Twisting her hands experimentally, she tried to loosen the ropes that bound her hands behind her.

She heard the commotion behind her and suddenly remembered Jacob, "What's happening, Jacob?" She whispered frantically.

Unlike her, he was facing the fight head on. She heard him gasp and asked again what was going on. "He and Hook are fighting—I don't—wait, what is Peter—" a splash, "oh wow, that was quite brilliant actually." Jacob kept his tone low, but he in no way hid that he was impressed.

Groaning, Moira closed her eyes and let the side of her head rest against the rock, "You are so bad it this," she mumbled.

Knowing he only had a few precious moments before Hook regained his bearings and got back on the rock, Peter turned to face the remaining pirates. He prepared for a fight when Smee rushed forward, but instead of aiming for the boy he pocketed his sword and looked as if he was preparing to dive the off the rock and into the water. Only pausing to strip off his vest before discarding it, Smee dove into the water yelling his captain's name.

With the bo'sun retrieving his captain, Peter turned his attention to Jukes and Starkey who held their swords at the ready. Peter only had seconds to calculate his next move before it would be taken out of his hands. He decided that Starkey needed to be taken out first as a priority because he was more of a planner and experienced fighter. Jukes was a hot head but that could be his downfall and made him less of a threat when compared to Starkey.

He lunged forward at Starkey, and as the pirate prepared to thrust his sword forward, Peter flipped over the man's shoulders. Taking advantage over Starkey's shock, Peter landed behind him and viscously rammed his shoulder in-between Starkey's shoulder blades.

Just as he fell forward onto his hands and knees, Peter was attacked by Jukes. The clang of his dagger blocking Jukes sword was heard twice before Peter managed to back Jukes up. Not stopping once in his movements, Peter managed to back Jukes up just as Starkey was raising himself onto his feet. He pushed Jukes right into Starkey and both men flew off the rock and into the now choppy water.

Running on an adrenaline high, Peter hardly noticed the rain drops hitting his face. He didn't know when it had started raining, but it quickly snapped him back to reality and made him turn back in the direction of Moira and Jacob. They were still tied down to the anchor, Jacob facing him and Moira tied on the opposite, having given up a long time ago trying to watch the fight.

As he approached he saw Jacob nudge Moira's leg with his and whisper, "Peter's coming to untie us."

Peter took out his knife and resumed cutting through the rope, leaning over he said, "The boys are on their way. They should be at the shore of the lagoon any moment now," Jacob grunted as the rope snapped and his hands were freed first. "Can the two of you fly?"

Moira felt Peter's arms wrap around her waist and help her up. Her arms had hardly any feeling left in them after being restrained for so long, so much she could hardly push the wet hair out of her face. "Give me a moment, I think I can."

However, Peter found himself frowning. Moira looked so exhausted and he knew she wouldn't last very long in the air in this state. Plus, the rain just added more weight and resistance to the non-seasoned flyer. "Here, I can carry you to the shore.

She shook her head, "What about Jacob?"

Peter knew the boy was in worse shape. Even on a good day he could hardly keep up in the air; he definitely took after Jane in that department.

But Jacob was not having it, "I'm the reason we're here in the first place. Moira, you go with Peter. I'll wait here for him to come back."

"But what if the pirates come back?!"

He shrugged, "I can swim."

Moira shook her head again, "No! I won't leave you here now."

"Um, guys?"

"What, Peter?" Moira asked, her voice teetering on hysterical.

"You know the pirates left their dingy here right?" He indicated to the small boat currently hitting itself against the side of Marooner's Rock. "Plenty of room for all of us, let's just hop in and row to shore."

Moira was silent for an awkward moment, staring at the dingy as if it were a relative she now only just realized had been sitting with her at the dinner table the entire night. "Oh. I literally did not remember how we got here for a moment," she walked past Peter, "Good idea."

With a shrug of the shoulder and a cock of his head he replied, "One of my best."

They hopped into the dingy one by one, Peter having one foot in the boat and the other on the rock as he tried to untie the small boat. Moira pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up. "Would the boys have attacked if they needed to?"

Peter had given up manually trying to untie the dingy, which had been done with fishing net since the extra rope was used on the children, and had taken out his knife and begun cutting before answering, "I usually send out a signal if they should jump in. No use in me always having all the fun."

"Yeah, fun," Jacob snorted. "This was more fun than a barrel of—WATCH OUT!"

Everyone fell in some form or another when the dingy suddenly tilted sharply to one side. Moira fell back against the side of the boat, and when she opened her eyes to look at Jacob who was opposite her, he was grasping onto his side of the boat which was currently tilted upward so he wouldn't fall on Moira. Peter had stumbled slightly, the foot that was on the bow had slipped completely into the boat, he grasped the sides trying not to fall.

Movement to her left made Moira see another reason why Jacob was desperately trying not to fall on her side of the boat. A hook was mere inches to her left, climbing over the side, and the roar above her head made her shoot forward and try to get to Jacob's side. Thankfully, Hook seemed more distracted with seeing Peter so close to notice her.

Instead, Hook grabbed Peter by his collar and pulled him completely off balance, and out of the boat. Hook joined him in the water, and the sudden loss of weight on one side of the boat caused the shift in balance to be completely out of sync. With all the weight suddenly on Moira and Jacob's side, they found themselves suddenly falling as the boat tried to equal itself out. The force of them hitting the water caused Moira to fall back and tip over the side, head over heels.

Peter didn't know when he realized he couldn't breathe exactly. It was either when Hook grasped his neck with his one good hand and squeezed, or when the pirate forced his head under the water. Peter couldn't see much under the murky water, except for his bubbles of air that escaped desperately from his mouth. He clawed at the hand at his neck, his dagger lost somewhere in the water after he'd dropped it from shock.

Suddenly he was thrust upward and out of the water. He took the biggest breathe he could but coughed through most of it. When he opened his eyes he saw Hook's now blood red ones glaring straight down at him. "How does it feel, boy? To feel every breathe you try to take slowly kill you?"

Before he could respond he was back under the water. Peter tried kicking his legs out, but the water resistance gave him less of an edge and when it made contact with any part of Hook's body it may as well have been a kitten nipping at his heels. He reached upward and his hand barely broke the surface before he was brought back up again.

His moves were sluggish now, but he still fought. He felt Hook's grip loosen for a moment before his grip went from around his throat to into his hair. This wasn't a much better position but Peter felt he had a better chance of escape if the grip was only on his hair. As oxygen returned to his lungs and the blood stopped boiling in his ears, another sound hit him. Someone was screaming, Moira was screaming, yelling to let him go, please let him go, you're killing him, please.

He was able to get to catch a glance of Moira, only her underarms and upward was showing out of the water, as she repeatedly pushed at Hook. Growing frustrated with her he shoved her away yelling as if she were a customer waiting in line at the market, "If you wished to be drowned like a kitten you merely need to wait your turn. I'll be right with you."

With that he turned back to Peter and snarled, "How long I have waited for this moment, Pan. To feel the life leave your body and knowing that it be done by my hand. But don't worry; the drowning won't kill you outright. That would be too gentle," he began lowering Peter back under, leaving only his face visible. "Before I see the light leave your eyes, I'll use my hook to disembowel you right here in the water. And in the last few moments that you have life I can take pleasure in the fact that you can do nothing but try and block out the screams of that little girl while she waits her turn to join you."

Peter quickly used whatever strength he had left to fight back, trying to somehow keep Hook busy enough so Moira could get away. He only prayed that she was getting back to Jacob and the boat, or even swimming back to shore. He took one last gulp of air as Hook forced him completely under, not once closing his eyes so not to give Hook the satisfaction of knowing for once he was truly not sure that he would make it out of this one. That this could be his final battle with Hook and he would not be the winner. That this was how the great game would end.

Suddenly Hook's grasp slackened considerably and Peter didn't waste a second to get away from him and break the surface. He did gasping but ready to fight if Hook was still capable. Instead he saw Hook slumping over until his body lay belly down on top of the water, floating there. Above him stood Moira, her arms raised over one shoulder and grasping one of the oars from the dingy.

She stood stock still for a moment, and then Peter saw she was shaking, staring down at the prone form of Hook in the water. He made his way over to her and carefully took the oar from her when she began muttering, her eyes unfocused.

"I—I thought he was g-going to kill you. I just w-wanted him to stop," tears slipped down her cheeks, though she didn't sob or cry out. "I didn't m-mean to kill him, I'm so sorry—"

Now she did begin crying, curling her hands into her chest. Peter wrapped an arm around her and began steering her back toward the dingy. Peter comforted her the only way she could, telling her that Hook was not dead but merely stunned. It was the truth, since Peter saw several bubbles escape to the surface presently from Hook's submerged face. Though she was still hysterical, he noticed she relaxed somewhat when she realized that no, she did not in fact murder someone, even though that someone probably deserved much worse.

She had barely relaxed when suddenly Smee launched out of the fog, wielding Johnny Corkscrew at them. Peter held Moira behind him, both of them crouching as far as they could in the water while Peter held up the oar as their only protection.

"Your captain is injured Mr. Smee," Peter indicated to the body in the water, "he still lives, but unless you act now he _will_ drown. So the choice is yours: either lose him and take the revenge that belongs solely to him, or save him now so he may fight another day. Make the choice."

Smee regarded them for a moment and Moira was sure that Smee may just disregard the captain and take revenge on them himself. If that were the case they would be dead before they could reach the boat, where Jacob gripped the edge so hard his knuckles had turned white. With control that must have agonizing to have, Smee holstered his sword and backed toward Hook's body which was still producing air bubbles.

"Mark me words, flying devils," he swore as he held a finger in the air as he declared, "You had better walk this island looking over your shoulders, especially you wench!" Moira actually flinched when Smee looked in her direction, "Your days are numbered." And with that he devoted his attention squarely to retrieving his captain back to the land of the living.

Peter wasted no time in getting Moira back into the boat before climbing in himself with him and Jacob taking care of paddling back to shore as quickly as they could. The fog had begun clearing up and the rain had stopped, leaving only the sound of nature and paddles hitting the water to be heard.

Moira had remained silent the entire time in the dingy, which initially worried Peter, but saw her perk up when she sighted land and with that one or two little lost boys. Peter had hated himself when he realized that Moira and her brother had been taken by the pirates and nearly drowned because of their connection to him. He thought about keeping underground again but remembered that he promised her he would never do anything like that again. She was no prisoner; she was the mother his boys needed after such a long period without one. He hoped that what happened today wouldn't press her to leave right away, for though he would never admit it he knew that when she was around the boys seemed happier. She was the final piece to a puzzle they didn't know they were missing until now, a person besides him that the boys strived to please. She made them want to be better because her approval meant everything to him.

The bottom of the dingy scraped sand as they hit the beach, and Peter bent down to help Moira out first. S few of the boys were already gathered at the dingy, wanting to know all the exciting details of what happened. For once it was Peter and Jacob regaling the adventure, because Moira had only one comment on the entire day in general.

"If Smee didn't like me before, I've got a feeling he absolutely loathes me now."

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is dedicated to Bob Hoskins and Dustin Hoffman. The former Capt. Hook and Barrie theatre patron celebrated his 75<strong>**th**** birthday on the same day that it was announced our twice-over Smee would retire from acting after being diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. Both men have appeared in at least two Peter Pan inspired movies (in 3 separate decades) and I just wanted to take a moment to give my appreciation for their great portrayals.**

**And…..**

**SO SORRY, my laptop is used and very old (I've had it ever since my first year of college which was like almost 4 years ago) and it just decided to break. But my brother was kind enough (thanks to a what I suspect is a major guilt trip) to let me use his laptop and thankfully we were able to transfer all my information. So I was delayed in my writing because I did not have access to my story and my files.**

**Also (insert whiney voice here) fight scenes are hard!**

**Fun fact: If you actually look up the names of the credited lost boys in the movie "Hook", you'll find them here in the story (No Nap, Don't Ask, Thud Butt, Latchboy, Too Small). A few of them (like Rufio) are not here yet but don't worry, they will be soon.**

**Please check out the new links on my profile to newer pictures I've created of these wonderful characters, and the pics I've put on my brand new tumblr account (Neverland123). Also, just saying that I've been imagining Peter as Charlie Rowe's portrayal because I love Charlie Rowe and he just simply IS Peter Pan to me, plus his complexion resembles Robin Williams' portrayal more than other actors who've donned the green tights. But I've been keeping certain physical details to a minimum so you readers can imagine the characters however you wish. It's been a trick I've used ever since I was a kid to imagine the people in the books I was reading to resemble people I either knew or celebrities. I once imagined an entire Goosebumps book was made up of Pokémon characters.**

**I'm currently working on the pirates, and I've got a great cast of actors I love picturing playing them. Hook is hard because I want him to be menacing and a gentleman at the same time. I love Dustin Hoffman but I'm just not picturing him in this fic. **


	8. Lily Pad

**CHAPTER EIGHT: LILY PAD**

**So I I've decided that very LONG and MARATHON chapters take a while to write and the only ones that suffer are my nerves and my readers. So to help speed things along the chapters are going to be a bit shorter, and may even just be one-shots if I need a filler. Also check out my tumblr page Neverland123 or just search the keywords "roses in december". I wanna start uploading my story there as well.**

She had to be quiet while in the longhouse, unless she desperately needed a quarrel to be solved by the elders than it was not her place to be heard at the moment. But Lily Pad wondered why, if she had no problem to be solved or a concern for the elders to address, she had to be there to begin with. When she voiced this to her mother for the third time she had calmly explained that it was time for to become more involved with the tribe in matters that would one day be her responsibility. Her mother was concerned that she spent too much time alone and needed to get more involved with the rest of her tribal family if she was going to be a more functioning member of it someday.

She had gone to gatherings in the longhouse before, in desperate times when the entire tribe needed to be together in times when war was on the horizon or sickness became too great, but they had been few and in-between. There were just under two dozen people there, all older than her and all sitting cross-legged as they quietly discussed some matter involving where the latest game had migrated.

Lily Pad only half listened, choosing to lean her head on her sister's shoulder. Rose Stem was older, with beautiful long brown hair that today she decided to decorate with a string of puca shells. She wished her hair was as long and elegant as Rose Stem's, but instead Lily Pad's was short and unruly. It was unusual for a girl her age to have short hair, her youngest brother the only one rivaling her at this point.

But she had been foolish one night when her and her elder brother Short Rainbow had gone on their own for the night and had made camp on the other side of the island. He had let her make the fire while he had gotten the fish ready for their dinner. After dinner she had forgotten to make sure that the ring around the fire was contained, and a while they had been sleeping a twig had rolled out of the fire still ablaze and had settled near her hair. She awoke to smoke filling her nose and suddenly something was hitting her face.

If Short Rainbow had not awoken up when he did the fire may have spread from her hair and to her flesh. He woke up and saw the ends of her hair on fire and immediately rushed to beat it out. When the panic had passed she felt her hair and her heart plummeted when she felt mostly air. The ends were singed so badly that they had all but disappeared. They returned to the tribe the next morning and when Lily Pad saw some of the other children point and laugh she wanted to run into her wigwam and never come out. Her people rarely cut their hair, unless they were in mourning and only then it was done by the elders of their tribe.

Her hair was barely down to her chin now, but after that morning she never felt ugly again when amongst the laughing children an older figure appeared. Her grandmother, Tiger Lily, stepped forward and took Lily Pad's face into her hands and looked at her not with pity, but endearment. She thumbed away the two trails of tears that had somehow escaped from her eyes, and Lily Pad tried to look away out of shame but her grandmother would not allow it.

She began leading Lily Pad away from Short Rainbow and the other children all the while whispering to her, "Do not make yourself low over this. Sadness will not cure this, like all things it will re-grow with the seasons."

"But I am so ugly now," Lily Pad whimpered.

She felt her grandmother's hands tighten onto her shoulder, "No," she said firmly. "You are not ugly. None of us are ugly, child, we simply experience trials. All you have done is gain wisdom from your experience, and wisdom is never ugly."

Her grandmother had led her to the stream and had carefully taken a knife and cut her hair evenly, erasing the burnt ends and bringing a curl out she had not seen since she was small enough for a papoose carrier. When her grandmother has seen her fingering the strands unsurely, she reminded her of the time many moons ago when a fire had ravaged part of the forest. And how from the ashes the fairies and tree spirits rose and gave life back to the earth and make it green once again.

"Like time, this river runs continuously and always changes. You will emerge from this river a new person who will have no shame," with one hand she cupped the tiniest collection of water and let it dribble into Lily Pad's hair, "Water is healing, but we also fear it for there is no way to the Happy Hunting Ground if it chooses to take us from this world. You fear what the others will say about you, but remember everything heals and your hair will grow back. Never be ashamed to survive an experience, especially if it gives you a gift."

Lily Pad knew the experience her grandmother referred to. When she was younger, barely older than Lily Pad herself she thought herself clever enough to sneak onto the pirate ship. That pride had gotten her captured and interrogated about the hideout of Peter Pan before she was rowed to Marooner's Rock.

Now in the longhouse, Lily Pad looked up and caught her grandmother's eye. She was seated amongst the elders at the far end of the longhouse. There were six of them in all, and she was only one of the two women present. Her great-grandfather, Great-Big-Little-Panther, had been called the chief by the pale faced lost boys and the pirates. While he was considered very important amongst the tribe, her people didn't have just one leader. There were a handful of men and a few women who took care of any major problems that occurred within the tribe.

The best tracker, hunter, medicine woman, or shaman usually made up this council. Her grandmother was very established in remedies and ceremonies that would purge the body and spirit, and therefore earned a place in her people's heart at the highest respect. Her grandmother looked up from the discussion as it ended and caught her and Rose Stem's eyes. Both smiled at her.

Following the council's example, the small group of people in the longhouse began shuffling around to get ready to leave. The flap covering the longhouse opened and instead someone came in. It was Rose Stem's and Lily Pad's youngest brother, Coughing Fish. He respectfully approached the rising elders and went straight to the man to Tiger Lily's left. He was their grandmother's brother and their great uncle, Rain-in-the-Face. Coughing Fish whispered something into his ear, and a small smile caused the wrinkles in his elderly face to crease farther. Rain-in-the-Face then whispered something to his sister, who shook her head but also smirked.

When Coughing Fish left Lily Pad followed him out. Outside two of the older boys was each holding a restrained lost boy against their bodies. They did not struggle, their heads merely looked down at their restrained hands. Lily Pad knew they were not scared, they had no reason to be. They were disappointed they had lost the game they had been playing with her people since before she was born.

They only raised their heads when Rain-in-the-Face stepped forward, the older dark haired boy speaking first, "Hello, Chief."

No matter how many times they were told, the lost boys always referred to the elderly men as 'chief'.

"Hello, lost boy Book," Rain-in-the-Face waved his hand in front of him like a rainbow, "Do you forgo victory this round?"

"Yes," Book painfully admitted. "You win."

Rain-in-the-Face than turned to the smaller blonde child, "And you lost boy Sunny?"

Appearing more upbeat than Book, Sunny rolled back and forth on his feet as if just casually waiting for this game to end so he could play another, "Uh-huh."

The elder nodded to the two older boys who then cut the boys loose. As they were walking away, Book turned back and yelled, "Next time we'll get you, you better believe it!"

I was all said in fun, no bitter blood between the two tribes at all. Book was smiling as he said his last words and Sunny even waved at Coughing Fish as he passed. This was how the game went. One tribe captured a member from the other, brought them back to their camp, and then they were let go after the loser admitted defeat. You were allowed attempts to escape but once you were in the enemy camp you officially lost the game.

She had almost been captured once, just after her hair had been cut. Another part of the reason she'd been embarrassed about her hair was that her people believed that their hair was an extension of themselves. If their hair was gone then a part of their spirit could go missing as well, and with that their skills which they depended on to survive.

It was two of the older boys, Tin Tin and Slightly, who had jumped her from above in a tree they had concealed themselves in. No pale face had ever snuck up on her before that, not even the pirates. Tin Tin had grabbed her around the shoulders and Slightly had gone for her legs. They attempted to tie he her up, but she slipped a leg free and was able to kick Slightly away. With her legs free she pushed back against Tin Tin before taking off into the forest.

It had shaken her more than it should have. She had prided herself on her ability to take in her surroundings, to see things coming before they happened. Yet she did not see the footprints near the tree, did not take in the bent and broken branches above her. She wondered if her grandmother even knew what she was talking about when she said she would gain from her experience. If anything she seemed to have lost the very things that earned her respect in the tribe.

She hadn't told anyone of the failed abduction. But seeing the boys in the camp gave her an idea.

Before her sister could ask where she was going, Lily Pad had run into their wigwam and over to her bed roll. Underneath her furs she found her dagger, which she tucked into her belt, and eyed her bow and arrow set. She decided to take it and looped the bow over her chest and tied the quiver on her back.

"I'm going hunting," she said to her sister, looking straight ahead as she ran out of the village.

The boy's tracks were not hard to follow through the woods; in fact they actually kept to a known path which made Lily Pad scoff. Unless you were a small child, her people always chose the rougher terrain to explore so not to leave tracks for wild animals or pirates to follow. It wasn't long before she heard laughter ahead of her and slowed down, bending down so she was almost moving on all fours.

She could see them up ahead, Sunny and Book skipping and occasionally kicking at the rocks in their path. But it wasn't them Lily Pad was interested in. No, to capture one of them would be declared unfair in the game and she would not ruin this truce between her people and the lost boys. But these two would lead her back to where more of them lay and surely if the time was right she could capture a different boy and bring him back to the tribe. That would prove she was not weak and prove that the loss of her hair made her no less a warrior than her brothers and sisters.

It was not long before the boys found a stream and began to head east, following the water. As they carried on the stream got wider and the water became clearer. Laughter could be heard through the thick forest as Lily Pad decided to take to the trees. Jumping from branch to branch and tree to tree she came upon the whole lot of them near a waterfall basin. She had been here before long ago to catch fish, but she preferred the stream on the west side of the island closer to her village. As far as she knew the pirates never knew of this place.

And good thing too because it seemed the lost boys had gone and made a proper second home out of it.

The Water House was Nibs's pride and joy. More than Michael's basket bed and yes even the time he figured out how to pump water in from the pond above their hallway. The waterfall basin had been one of their favorite places to swim and play since Peter first brought them there forever ago. The water was clear as the bluest sky and always brought a smile to their faces when the boys were wracked with boredom. They could spend hours, even days here.

And they had. It had not escaped Nibs the growing number of boys that lived in the underground house, and while there was always room for them to sleep and play, there were just the odds and in-between days some of the boys wanted to get out and stretch their legs. They used to go camping whenever the cabin fever kicked in, but Nibs got the brilliant idea to build another hiding place for them to play. The only question at the time was where.

The basin was located deep in the woods, far too deep for the pirates to venture and just enough away from the Indian camp that they hardly ever came. The strong water-based trees that hung over the water were perfect for what Nibs had in mind concerning a tree house overlooking the water. Three large branches extended from a particular trunk, with two appearing perfectly parallel to one another as if to say 'Build on me' and Nibs just said, 'kay'. The third branch was on the very end and only a tad higher than the other two branches. When the tree house was constructed the base was settled upon the two flat parallel branches and appeared that the back of the house was resting on against the third branch. It looked like someone had just inserted the house in the tree branches.

It was big enough to fit ten of them comfortably and had had certain features added onto it over time. While the floor and roof were flat wood constructed for stability and elements, the walls he had allowed liberties with and consisted of branches, twigs, moss, and even several pieces of broken oars acting as window frames. Over time the two base branches had grown to hug the house and grow further over the water and expand. With left over planks of wood the boys laid them separately over branches as if to make a connecting bridge circling around the tree. Several were placed close together on a higher branch and were used to jump into the water. Eventually it just became known as the Water House.

The final added flair were the swings that hung over the water. On one side there was a rope swing and on the other sitting swing. Moira currently occupied that one, preferring however to standing straight up on the seat, rocking back and forth. After what happened at Slightly Gulch Peter thought it best that if they went swimming they do it at one of their secret hiding spots. Though they'd never encountered pirates at the gulch before they didn't want to risk going back there so soon, less the pirates decided to stake the gulch out.

Laughing came from every corner of the basin, boys floating on their backs and splashing each other. Some were up in the Water House and jumping from the branches, and others were lazily lying on the branches.

Peter was hanging upside down from the same branch the swing was tied to, and though Nibs was copying Peter the boy would never point out that their leader kept sneaking glances at Moira, making sure she was okay. When they got home the night she and Jacob had been captured, she didn't say much nor anything about what had happened. They had listened to Peter regale the story and Moira merely nodded at certain points for confirmation. She hid whatever was bothering her well, but the little ones could either sense she was troubled or were just shaken over the fact that they nearly lost their new mother.

After Peter's story and dinner everyone had promptly gone to bed. Jacob slept in the large bed with many of the others, while some had strung up hammocks or made nests in the holes in the walls located throughout the house. There were no doors blocking off entrances in the underground house, and even if your bed was located further down one of the hallways you could hear and almost see everything in the living area, which was where the big bed, Peter, and Moira were located. Peter had fashioned himself a cot out of interwoven tree roots that had broken through the dirt roof and had been covered in a roll-up mattress of sorts and topped with a blanket. Moira had fashioned herself a bed on the opposite side of the living area, stuffing a small mattress herself and content with a pillow and blanket.

Sometimes Angie shared with her and other times the little girl found another bunkmate. But lately Moira had gone to sleep alone and woke up with an extra small body in the bed. Or two. Or three.

The first time it happened she had almost jumped out of her skin and the bed itself when she felt something slink up and curl itself behind her. She quickly turned to find a sheepish Too Small had cuddled her from behind, and she instantly felt guilty when it looked like he would miserably retract himself when he mumbled, "I just wanted to make sure you were safe from monsters, and pirates," he added that last part.

She could not. Say no. To that face.

Not saying anything she turned so she was facing him, pulled the blankets up and tucked them both in. She gave him a second goodnight kiss and cuddled into each other until they fell asleep again.

Now it was just a matter of not when, but who she would wake up to each morning. Some of the smalls had taken it upon themselves to rotate each night so they each got a turn, but often someone just had to go and have a nightmare or just want Moira time and snuck in even if someone else had claimed Moira's side for the night. Sunny had taken upon himself to sleeping at the end of her mattress like a housecat if there was no room next to her.

It was Sunny now who had made his way through the forest and ran to edge of the basin. When Moira rocked the swing toward the direction of the shore, he was able to hop on and join her, standing up at her side. She looked down at him and smiled while he reached for the sunglasses on her face she had just discovered that morning at the bottom of her bag, "And just where were you two?" She asked when Book appeared from the bushes as well.

"We gotted captured by Indians on the way over, sorry we were late." Sunny grinned, looking up at her through black glass and red lenses. He, as well as all the smalls, were being schooled in certain lessons in manners by Moira. That included pleases, thank you's, sorry's and your welcomes.

Sunny looked up at Peter hanging upside down not two feet above them. The little boy laughed and put his arms up, reaching for him. Peter grinned and reached his arms out and the next thing Moira knew Sunny had left the swing and was hanging from Peter's fingertips like a little monkey.

Eventually his grip began to loosen and Sunny laughed while yelling, "No, no, don't let me fall. Please, Peter," he held on only by a fingers now, "Hahahaha, no!" And then into the water he went.

"Hey, don't you lose those glasses," Moira leaned down and snapped her fingers at Sunny when he came up from the water, and he handed them back to her begrudgingly. "Lose 'em, you find 'em. You can wear them again on the way home."

Sunny seemed satisfied but not yet ready to leave Moira's side, so he amused himself by bobbing his head under the swing and holding onto her legs. As the small boy attempted to climb her like a rope, Peter snatched the glasses from atop Moira's head and placed them over his eyes. He would deny it venomously but ever since she had brought the glasses out she knew Peter had snuck out with them twice already and attempted to stare at the sun, fascinated with them.

Glancing up at him she couldn't stop the breathy giggle from escaping her as she took in the upside down and grinning Peter who looked back at her through Marilyn Monroe starlet sunglasses. Of course he didn't know the sunglasses were for girls and she absolutely forbid Jacob and Angie from saying anything, if nothing but for her own amusement for Peter was hardly ever unintentionally silly.

"What's so funny?" Peter cocked his upside-down head.

"Nothing, but might I say that you look sharp, sir." She teased. When his brow arched in confusion she clarified with a shrug, "I heard that line in a movie once. I'd always wanted to try it out."

She was jostled when he suddenly landed right-side up next to her on the swing, squishing them to the point that she had to rest her leg on top of his thigh to be comfortable. "What's 'sharp' mean?"

"It means you look good."

"Oh," Peter paused a moment before he removed the glasses and put them back on her face. Moira thought she'd crossed some sort of line with him emotionally before he beamed, "Now you look sharp."

She grinned at him.

"We're all sharp. Sharpy sharpy sharp sharp!" Sunny screamed from under the swing seat, nagging onto both Peter and Moira's legs.

Moira giggled at the little boy, "You know who else is sharp? Jacob!" She yelled up to her brother who was half asleep on a branch and cuddling his ukulele. "Can you still do Elvis songs?"

Before Beatlemania had hit him full swing Jacob had gone through a major Elvis Presley stage late that summer. She had caught him trying to do the pelvis moves with his guitar in front of the mirror one night and had not let him forget it. At all.

He pushed aside his embarrassment and took up his chance to show off. The boys had been intrigued with his ukulele the first time he'd brought it out but had hardly gotten out a few practice cords the entire time they'd been on the island. Even the newest lost boy was not privy to any of the current songs he knew, making Jacob wonder just how many decades it had been.

He decided on 'Hound Dog', figuring that if he was going to introduce the lost boys to the King that he might as well begin with the best. He strummed the first few strings, the endless hours of practicing quickly coming back to him

'_You ain't nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time. You ain't nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time. Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.'_

Moira and Peter were swaying on the swing to the beat. It quickly became a tighter fit when Sunny insisted on getting back up and sitting on Moira's lap. The boys swayed while Moira lip sang along with the words.

'_When they said you was high classed, well that was just a lie. When they said you was high classed, well that was just a lie.'_

Sunny was rocking back and forth very hard at this point, forcing Moira farther and farther back each time. She was having trouble holding onto the supports of the swing with the full weight of the little boy pushing against her and Peter was absolutely no help at all, in fact she suspected they both were making a game of it. She saw the look in Sunny's eye as he sensed the song was coming to an end.

'_Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.'_

While Jacob enthusiastically strummed the final cords Sunny sat up on her lap and turned his torso so he was facing her. She only had one second between the little gleam in his eye and his smile to widen before she raised a finger to him and said warningly, "Nooooooooo." But he launched himself at her and wrapped his arms around her neck. The sudden shift in weight caused her to fly backward and loose her grip on the swing. Peter would have laughed at her and Sunny falling in the water had Moira not latched onto his arm with the hand she had warned Sunny with.

The shock on Peter's face was evident when she pulled him down, and when he emerged from the water she was laughing at him through her drenched hair, "I told you, Pan. Ladies don't get mad, they get even!"

Peter looked at her with mock disbelief, as if he couldn't get over that she had just pulled one over on him. Before he could retaliate he was splashed by Sunny chanting, "Even, even, even, Stevens. Hey, time me how long I can hold my breath underwater." And Sunny's head disappeared under the water.

Moira meanwhile took the wet sunglasses that had miraculously stayed on her face and threw them to the shore, "Well, now that that's been squared away," she looked up at Jacob above them, "Great tunes brother, didn't know you still remembered the King."

Jacob shrugged arrogantly, "He's no John Lennon, but he sure can strum that old string of his."

"Who's John Lennon? He a friend of yours back home?" Peter asked, partially floating on his back.

"He wishes!" Moira beamed

"I really, really do," Jacob confirmed eagerly. "No, he's the leader of this rock band called the Beatles. They are the grooviest band out there, like they write the coolest songs and let their hair grow out and get all the chicks they want—"

"Grooviest? Chicks? I mean I like eating chicken as much as the next lost boy but why do they need so much," Peter looked between Jacob and Moira, "You guys use weird words. And what's a rock band?"

This had become a common problem after the Woodham's had arrived. These boys were just not up to date on any current lingo and unfortunately that seemed to be all Jacob spoke half the time. Moira remembered him having to explain that 'cool' did not always refer to the temperature, 'dude' was a title of friendship (usually), and a 'flower child' was not a baby that grew out in the fields. Jacob had referred to Moira as one not too long ago and while it caused some confusion as to her origins in general, she awoke with a smile one morning to find a daisy chain hanging on the wall above her bed. She had since taken to wearing it in her hair.

"Groovy means something is cool, or awesome. 'Chicks' is just a way to refer to girls," Moira explained, holding onto the swing seat after getting a little tired, "And what do you mean John Lennon is the leader of the Beatles? Paul McCartney writes and sings more songs than Lennon I'm sure—"

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence!" Jacob glared.

"Paul McCartney is the leader," Moira insisted.

"No, no he's not," he whined. "John founded the band, he writes and sings most of the songs, so he's the leader."

"He may have started the band but Paul made it what it was—"

"Silence, heretic!

To Peter it was like watching a game of toss, the siblings going back and forth with one jibe after another. At first he was alarmed but the playfulness behind it came through very quickly and he was glad to see this argument was not meant at all to be hurtful. He'd witnessed (and been a part of) screaming matches between the boys and he hated to admit it but some had escalated into knock down smack downs, often over stupid things. The conflict never resolved and only resulted into bruised bodies and ego.

This argument only went as far as Jacob putting his hand over his ears chanting, "La la la la la la. I can't hear you. You don't exist therefore your argument is irrelevant. La la la la la." He walked along the branch and made his way down the tree until he was walking along the simple rope bridge that connected to the shore.

"You know I'm right!" Moira yelled to him.

"You're no longer my sister!

"That's okay, you're adopted. Someone left you on our doorstep in the snow and Dad wanted a boy," Jacob just waved her off and disappeared into the bushes, grumbling about getting something to eat. She smiled at Peter, "He knows I'm right."

Peter just offered her a smile that showed he wasn't going to argue with her. Yes he may have only met four girls his whole life but that was enough experience to make him learn that when a girl thinks she is right you don't argue with her. Ever.

Never. Ever.

Before he could talk again Sunny's head shot out of the water in front of him and took a loud and deep breathe. When he could talk he asked excitingly, "What's my time?" Peter was impressed but all Sunny heard was Moira shrieking.

"YOU'VE BEEN UNDER THE WATER AND NOT BREATHING THIS WHOLE TIME!"


End file.
